Free Soft Target by Stephen Leather Page A

notes. He pulled one out at random and flicked through it. Then he sniffed it.
    The boxer laughed. 'Think we printed them ourselves?'
    Rose put back the bundle and unzipped the second bag.
    He checked another bundle at random. It seemed genuine,
    and all the notes were used. If they had been counterfeit they would all have been new, Rose thought. He stepped back from the car. 'Everything looks cool,' he said.
    'Youse don't want to count it?'
    'I trust you,' said Rose, deadpan. 'Plus, you rip me off for a few grand, so what? I didn't see you weighing the gear to see if I'm a few ounces short. It's all based on trust at the end of the day. Trust and artillery.'
    'Trust and artillery,' said the boxer. 'I like that.'
    'Kieran can put the bags in my boot, and take the gear.'
    The boxer nodded at Kieran, who transferred the money and carried the heroin to the boot of the Mercedes and slammed it shut.
    Rose backed towards his car, ready to swing out the MAC 10 at the first sign of a double-cross, but Kieran slid into the back seat of the Mercedes. 'It's been a pleasure doing business with youse,' said the boxer, throwing Rose an ironic salute. 'Have a safe trip home.' He got into the back of the car, slammed the door and the vehicle rolled slowly out of the car park.
    Rose watched as it drove away, white plumes feathering from the exhaust. His heart was hammering in his chest but he wanted to throw back his head and howl in triumph. He'd done it. He'd bloody well done it.
    The bad guy popped his head up from behind a crate and Liam fired twice with the shotgun. The man's skull exploded with a satisfying pop and brains splattered over the wall 63 behind him. Two more bad guys appeared from behind a row of oil barrels, brandishing axes. Liam reloaded smoothly and blew them away.
    'Don't those things carry parental warnings?' asked Moira.
    She was carrying a tray with a glass of orange juice and some fig rolls on it.
    'Parents don't play video games, Gran,' said Liam, his eyes never leaving the screen. His thumbs flashed over the handset and two more villains slumped to the ground.
    'You know what I mean, young man. Don't be cheeky,'
    she admonished him, as she placed the tray on the coffee table.
    'Sorry, Gran,' said Liam. He reloaded and waited for a bad guy to appear at the top of the stairs, then shot him in the chest.
    Moira sat down on the sofa next to Liam. 'Did your father buy you that?'
    'Nah, he got me two racing games. I got this with my pocket money.'
    'An hour we said, remember? An hour a day.'
    'Okay.'
    'Would you mind switching it off and talking to me?'
    'Gran . . .'
    'I'd like to talk to you.'
    Liam sighed and switched off the console. He reached for his orange juice and gulped it down.
    'You know your granddad and I love having you here,' she said.
    Liam wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
    'And you're happy at school?'
    'It's okay.'
    'But it's a good school, isn't it? And there's a better mix of children in your class. Not as many . . . well, you know what I mean, don't you? It's not like London.'
    'The teachers are nice,' said Liam, 'and I like walking to school.'
    'There you are, then,' said Moira. 'You like your room here, too, don't you?'
    Liam nodded, and bit into a biscuit.
    'Your granddad and I were thinking that perhaps you'd like to stay with us.'
    Liam frowned. 'For ever?'
    'Not necessarily, no,' said Moira, hurriedly. 'But your father's very busy at work, you know that. And remember what happened last night. He said he'd phone but he didn't.
    He isn't very reliable, so Granddad and I think you might be better off here with us.'
    'Is this Dad's idea?' asked Liam. Tears sprang to his eyes.
    Moira put her arm round his shoulders. 'No, it's not. He's still talking about you going to London to be with him. But it's going to be difficult, and it might be better for him if you stayed here.'
    Liam wiped his eyes on his sleeve. 'It isn't fair.'
    'What do you mean?' asked Moira.
    'It's like you're all trying to