The Point by Gerard Brennan Page B

wage in here. Just relax and I’ll give you anything you want.”
    John lowered his voice. “Oh, dead on. Well, fill a plastic bag full of cash.”
    “Do you not want the cigarettes as well?”
    “Aye. Good idea. Thanks.”
    She turned to swipe the fags off the shelves behind her and into the bag. John took the opportunity to watch her ass sway as she worked.
    “You know,” he said. “I’d love to ask you for your number.”
    “Probably not the best time.”
    “Aye, probably.”
     
    Wheels Man
     
    Paul fidgeted in the driver seat of the stolen Vauxhall Astra. He tried to catch a glimpse of John through the glass automatic doors of Murdock’s garage. The sunlight bounced off the doors’ surface. Paul had no idea what the little scumbag was up to.
    “Come on, John. What the fuck’s keeping you?”
    Paul’s scalp tightened. The rear view mirror reflected the last thing he wanted to see: a police car pulled into the garage forecourt.
    “Ah, fuck.”
    His hand hovered over the car horn.
    “Ah, fuck.”
    He laid his hand on the plastic button in the centre of the steering wheel. Applied a little pressure then snatched his hand back.
    “Fuck it.”
    He eased the stolen car into gear and drove coolly and calmly away from the garage.
     
    Hands Up
     
    John was well pleased with himself as he strutted out of the shop with his loot. Right up until he walked right into a peeler. He dropped one of his bags of cigarettes and the packets scattered all over the concrete.
    The cop looked from John’s still concealed face to the fags and back to John again. “You should seriously consider nicotine patches.” He pointed at the fags. “They’ll kill you.”
    John dropped the other bag and pushed his wrists forward to be cuffed. The cop snapped the silver bracelets in place. Just as he reached out to snatch the scarf from John’s face, the screech of tyre on concrete snatched John’s attention. A green Subaru Impreza pulled into the garage forecourt. John placed the vanity number plate right away. M47ONE. It was his da’s car. Trust the aul’ bastard to pick that instant to arrive. Just in time to gloat.
    But it wasn’t his da who jumped out of the Subaru. That would have been too easy. As soon as he spotted Rachel he knew he was in real trouble. She stormed across the forecourt and John could have sworn he could see twin plumes of steam spouting from her nose.
    “John! What the fuck?”
    The cop actually jumped at the urgent whip-crack that was Rachel’s voice. Then he went back to frisking John. He found the revolver tucked in John’s waistband immediately.
    Rachel seethed. “A gun? A fucking gun? Where’d you get a gun from?”
    The cop half-turned and tried to stare Rachel down. “He has the right to remain silent, you know.”
    Rachel looked over the cop’s shoulder. John shifted to the cop’s blind side and mouthed Paul’s name. Rachel nodded. Understood.
    “Will I tell daddy?” she asked.
    “No. I’ll phone my solicitor from the station.”
    “We’ve an expert here, have we?” the cop said.
    “What are you, a comedian?” Rachel asked.
    The cop gave Rachel a cool look.
    “Go stand by your car, please, miss,” he said. “I’ll be over in a minute to check your tyres.”
     
    Male Bonding
     
    Brian was warming to Rachel’s father. They’d just emptied one bottle of wine and uncorked another. It was going down pretty damn easy, especially since Brian was normally a beer man. They weren’t quite best friends, but they were getting there.
    Brian checked his watch. “Rachel’s taking a long time.”
    Malone curved one side of his mouth and spluttered a blast of wine-breath through his lips.“Ah, she’s probably got chatting to somebody she knows. Small towns are like that. We talk.”
    “I guess.”
    “You know, like, I’ve heard a few things about you and your brother.”
    “I don’t suppose it was good?”
    “Afraid not.”
    “Look, me and Paul...”
    Malone held up his hand. It