To Kill For by Phillip Hunter

from his emotions. You get hold of Paget, you’ll wipe him out. Tell us where he is, leave the rest to us.’
    Eddie said, ‘You could help us out, Joe. Any ideas where Paget is?’
    â€˜No.’
    Dunham nodded slowly, and kept his eyes on me and let me know he didn’t believe me. He wanted to know what I knew. I didn’t want him to know that, but I also didn’t want him to know that I didn’t want him to know. In the end, I shrugged and said, ‘I’m working on a couple of things. Give me time.’
    Dunham leaned back in his seat and studied me.
    â€˜Time we don’t have. Tell us what you got.’
    They were trying too hard to sound casual about wanting to know if I knew where Paget was. They had contacts all over the place and I was pretty sure they had a man in Cole’s firm. Dunham might have been tipped off that me and Cole had traced Paget to Loughton.
    All that didn’t matter so much, though. What mattered to me was why they were so anxious to get to Paget, and why they wanted me and Cole out of the way, chasing fucking Albanians.
    â€˜We thought we were onto something,’ I said. ‘We found that Paget was staying at his ex-girlfriend’s place in Essex. But he’s gone from there. I’ve asked around, but so far nothing.’
    â€˜This ex-girlfriend doesn’t know anything?’
    â€˜No.’
    Dunham took another sip of his Irish and nodded slowly. He glanced at Eddie. Eddie said, ‘Well, if you get anything, tell us first, alright?’
    â€˜Yeah.’

CHAPTER TWELVE
    King lived in a thirties semi a few blocks from Oakwood tube. It was the kind of house a bank manager might have. Maybe that was why he liked it. He wanted to be a regular bloke – decent car, nice street, plump wife, kids, the works. All nice and cosy and a long way from robbing jewellery stores and security vans.
    The curtains were drawn. I knocked. One of the curtains twitched. Right then I knew something was wrong. I’d left my Makarov in the car, and I’d left the car a block up. I backed up a pace. The door swung open and King stood there in jeans and vest. He gripped a .38 revolver. When he saw me he relaxed and I saw the muscles around his neck ease. He kept a tight hold of the gun, though. He said, ‘It’s you.’
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    â€˜We’re out.’
    â€˜What?’
    He took a step forward, looked up and down the road.
    â€˜Did anyone follow you?’
    â€˜No.’
    His dark face shone with sweat. His short blonde wife came out of the lounge and took a look down the hallway and saw me.
    â€˜Get rid of him.’
    King nodded and waved her away. She didn’t move.
    â€˜Get rid of him,’ she said again.
    King sighed heavily. He was surrounded; the wife behind, me in front. I don’t which pissed him off more.
    â€˜We’re out. Me and Tone. Out. I don’t know what this shit is, Joe, but it’s too fucking heavy for us.’
    I’d known King and Daley for years, I’d worked with them on a couple of big jobs. They’d never lost their bottle. But I was looking at King and he was sweating and gripping his revolver tightly and his wife was hovering, not letting him out of her sight.
    â€˜What’s this about?’
    â€˜You’re on your own, man. That’s what it’s about.’
    â€˜Did you get anything on Glazer?’
    â€˜Fuck Glazer. Fuck you.’
    â€˜Tell me what happened.’
    â€˜Fuck off, Joe.’
    â€˜Tell me.’
    He looked down at the revolver, put it in his jeans pocket, wiped the palm of his hand on the denim.
    â€˜I phoned a few people. Got nothing. Asked a couple people to ask around. Next thing I know, my wife is crying. Some cunt called up, threatened my kids, Joe. My fucking kids. I take that seriously.’
    His wife was watching me, her arms crossed, her face grim and set, her mouth thin.
    â€˜It’s