The Becket Approval Falconer Duncan (ebook reader .txt) 📖

tried this street,’ she said, pointing directly across. ‘Would you care to join me?’

‘Sure.’

They crossed the road and walked along a residential street that was grubbier than the last with few functioning street lamps. She glanced at him. When he caught her look she smiled politely and looked away.

‘What do you like to be called?’ she asked.

‘Mister Gunnymede.’

She hoped to find a trace of humour in his expression which she did. ‘Devon. Dev. Or Gunny perhaps?’

‘Take your pick.’

‘I like Devon. I like Gunny too. I can’t decide.’

They came to another crossroads.

‘I’m going with straight on,’ she said.

He shrugged indifference and they crossed into the next street.

‘You think British?’ she asked.

‘Yeh, I’d say British military trained.’

‘Why?’

‘The PAD mostly.’

‘Perimeter Area Defence,’ she remembered.

‘Very UK SF. The curry powder was another strong indictor.’

She looked surprised.

‘Ration packs can be boring. Brits like their curry.’

‘Not an Asian sniper then?’

‘Brit smoke. Brit PAD. Boobytrap escape route. It looks very Brit SF.’

‘Why kill all of them?’

‘Because he could.’

She looked at him enquiringly.

‘He wouldn’t have arrived expecting to get everyone. The ones on the slope looked like they were trying to get to him and got caught in the open. I don’t think they were very good at not getting shot.’

The street grew darker. Gunnymede noticed someone in a doorway, the glow from a cell-phone exposing him.

‘How long do you think it took?’ she asked.

‘Did you check your phone when you were there?’

‘No.’

‘There was no signal. As long as no-one got away to raise the alarm, he had all the time he wanted.’

A man turned a corner up ahead the other side of the street. He seemed to pause and look for Gunnymede and Bethan before crossing the road and heading towards them.

Bethan hardly noticed him but Gunnymede’s danger meter began to blink. The man looked handy. When he was metres away he stopped squarely in front of the pair. Gunnymede stopped and held out an arm to halt Bethan.

The man produced a large, serrated knife. Gunnymede held his arms ready to respond. The man muttered something and held out his free hand.

Bethan reached inside her pocket and took out her purse. ‘He can have this.’

Gunnymede put his hand on her purse, pushing it back to her, his gaze fixed on the man’s eyes. ‘He’ll probably want more than that.’

The man lunged forward and swung the knife in a wide arc. Gunnymede yanked Bethan back as the tip of the blade nicked her jacket. Several bricks were within reach on a garden wall and Gunnymede grabbed one and hauled it at the man. The brick bounced off his shoulder and went through a car window. Before the man could react, Gunnymede grabbed another brick and ran at him, releasing it at a short distance with all his might. The brick hit the man squarely in the face which sent him back. Gunnymede grabbed the knife hand and kicked the mugger brutally in the crotch, buckling his legs. As he leaned forward, Gunnymede kicked him in the throat. The man released the knife as he fought to breathe. He dropped to the ground struggling for air. Gunnymede followed it up with another brutal kick to the man’s solar plexus.

‘Stop!’ Bethan said as she grabbed Gunnymede’s arm.

Gunnymede stepped back and looked behind them to see two men hurrying towards them. He grabbed Bethan’s arm and pulled her with him. ‘Come on!’ And they broke into a run.

They didn’t have to run far before the residential street merged with a main road. Gunnymede guided her around a corner and into the road. A car drove past. Gunnymede kept hold of her hand and they crossed behind it.

Music came from a seedy bar up the street. Gunnymede looked back as they headed towards it. The two men arrived at the corner and paused to assess the situation.

‘Go inside,’ Gunnymede said to Bethan as they reached the bar.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Just get inside.’

She picked up a bottle, grabbed a lid from a row of dustbins and held it like a shield, ready for battle.

Gunnymede studied the two men, waiting for their move. The thugs took stock of the situation and after a brief exchange stepped back out of sight.

The door to the bar opened, a man fell out onto the pavement, struggled to his feet and staggered away.

Gunnymede regarded Bethan with her bottle and dustbin lid at the ready and took an immediate liking to her. ‘We should head back to the hotel.’

‘I wasn’t that hungry anyway,’ she said, putting the bottle in the bin, placing the lid on top and brushing her hands clean.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine. You?’

‘Perfect.’

Fifteen minutes later they walked into his room and she slumped into the only chair releasing a heavy sigh.

‘How are you with blood?’ he asked.

Her eyes immediately flicked to his side.

‘Not mine. Yours,’ he said. ‘You have a cut on your chest.’

She pulled open her jacket to reveal a clean cut a couple of inches long in the V of her jumper, a line of dried blood going down inside it.

‘You need to clean it,’ he said.

She removed her jacket. ‘You’re bleeding too. Usual place.’

He pulled off his jacket and shirt to check his old wound. ‘Be nice if it had a chance to heal, between you and your laptop and Albanian muggers.’

She pulled off her jumper down to her bra and looked unsure what to do with her wound.

‘Wash it with soap and water,’ he said.

She went into the bathroom.

He stepped into the doorway holding a piece of gauze against his wound. 'Do you mind?'

'No,' she said, moving to one side of the sink.

He joined her and