The Drop

knee.’
    ‘You wish!’
    I dropped Sarah at the ground and wound the window down to shout, ‘behave yourself,’ at her as she walked off.
    ‘Don’t worry, I’m a good girl,’ she called back cheerfully.
    ‘Yeah, right,’ I said but she had already turned her back and was disappearing into the crowd.
    I got a real pang as the cold air hit me through the opened window. I could smell the onions frying in the burger vans nearby and I was picking up individual shouts from the crowd as this great stream of humanity, all clad in black and white stripes, ascended the stairs to the turnstiles. I was gutted to be missing the atmosphere as much as the game.
    I found myself wanting to be with Sarah tonight too. She’d really developed and not just physically. She’d grown up a lot at college and what had come back was smart and funny and able to banter away with the best of them. And she was beautiful, that had to be admitted. The sixth-former with the teeth braces had long since been transformed into a babe with a cracking figure. Mustn’t think like that though. The one thing I was not going to do was roll around with Bobby Mahoney’s daughter - no matter how tempting it might be. I did keep having to tell myself that, over and over, ever since Sarah kissed me after her birthday party. Bobby loved his daughter more than anything, I reminded myself constantly, and the one thing he didn’t want was her hooking up with a member of his crew. Bobby liked me but not that much. He’d got a doctor in mind for Sarah or, failing that, Prince Harry. If I told him I had nothing but the finest intentions for his daughter, there would be no cosy arm around the shoulder while he discussed me inheriting the family business. More than likely the conversation would end in a short walk off a big cliff.
    I took my time getting home, calling in on Palmer to see if he had made any progress looking for our Russian friend.
    ‘If he was in the city I’d have found him by now,’ he told me.
    ‘So he’s not in the city.’
    ‘That’s about the size of it.’
    ‘Keep looking,’ I told him.
    When I got home, I opened the door of my apartment to be greeted by darkness. What the fuck? Where was Laura? I turned on the light and there was a note on the coffee table telling me she’d gone to see her big sister. ‘Jesus Christ,’ I said aloud. I tried to remind myself they were both grief stricken, but Laura had clearly forgotten how she’d pleaded with me to give up the match so I could stay in and take care of her. It was too late to go back up there now.
    I swore and went right out again. There was a Chinese restaurant over the road. It was as good a place as any to eat on your own and I could get goal updates by text message from Sarah.
    After my meal, I returned to my empty flat, still feeling mightily pissed-off. I walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge and took the top off a cold beer, swigging from the bottle. I was about to sit down in the lounge but figured I’d hang my jacket up in a wardrobe first. I put the bottle of beer on the coffee table, slipped off my jacket and carried it to the bedroom. I opened the door, turned on the light and that’s when the bloke hit me.

TWENTY-THREE
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    L uckily for me, it was a glancing blow or that would have been the end of me. I must have reacted just in time, raising my left arm instinctively to parry, because the heavy cosh he was carrying skidded off my forehead and he dropped it from his gloved hand. The impact was still hard enough to draw blood, rattle my brains and give me a sick feeling deep in my stomach.
    My attacker was a weasel-faced, gaunt guy about my height. He didn’t look like conventional muscle and if he had been I’d have been dead by now, so I figured he was there just to turn my place over. He was looking for something.
    That’s all I had time to think about. Weasel-face grabbed me round my neck and slammed me back through the bedroom door. Christ he was strong for such a lean guy, with a grip like a vice. He must have been a rock-climbing cat burglar. His fingers were digging into me, closing round my throat until I could barely breathe. As he forced me backwards, I grabbed his arm and tried to dislodge it but I couldn’t shake it loose. It didn’t help that he was pummelling my head with his free fist as he propelled me back down the hall, knocking me half-senseless in the process.
    I fought back of