Free The Last Big Job by Nick Oldham

head drooping loosely between his arms. He could tell
his nose was broken, crushed, and his cheekbone possibly fractured.
Blood poured out of his nostrils, blobbing on to the floor with
strands of snot and saliva.
    But Billy Crane had not finished with him yet. His rage had
not subsided.
    He hauled Loz to his feet and hurled his face against Nero’s
cage. The huge beast, 108 kilos of rippling muscle and sinew,
launched himself through the air, his huge paws spread wide, claws
extended.
    Even though there was the mesh between them, Loz cowered away
with a scream just a nano-second prior to Nero’s full weight
crashing against the cage. The lion rolled away backwards and
regained his feet in one flowing, feline motion. The smell of blood
and fear was starting to drive him wild.
    And still Billy Crane had not finished.
    With a roar himself, he took hold of Loz’s brightly coloured
shirt, pulled him roughly on to his feet and pinned him against the
cage again. Tipping Loz off-balance, he dragged the unfortunate man
along the cage, winding up its inhabitant, who paced angrily behind
Loz. The latter screamed, shrieked and provoked even more of a
response from Nero.
    In all, Crane dragged Loz up and
down the cage four times. By the end of this Nero was emitting
unworldly noises which seemed to come from the very pit of his
guts; noises more akin to a wild African night than a balmy one in
the Canaries.
    By now, Loz had taken the leap beyond fear. The whole episode
had become unreal to him following the massive blows to his face.
It was like a nightmare from hell.
    Panting heavily, Crane threw Loz to the ground, where he
snivelled like a baby.
    ‘ Fifty fucking thousand pounds,’ Crane gasped. ‘You arsehole.
What is that worth, eh? An arm? A leg? An eye?’
    He bent down and withdrew Nero’s food tray from the cage and
flung it clattering across the roof. There was now a gap of about
four inches high by ten long in the netting at floor
level.
    ‘ Or a hand?’ Crane said. His eyes blazed anger and
retribution.
    Loz’s face snapped up at Crane as the implication of what had
been said struck home. ‘No, Billy,’ he uttered in disbelief.
‘Please. . . I don’t deserve this. No way do I deserve
this.’
    Nero roared in his ear. Crane bent towards him
menacingly.
     
     
    Almost as soon as she inserted the key into the lock, Danny
lost her nerve. She fell against the door for support and butted
her head against it in an expression of frustration at
herself.
    This is stupid, she thought bleakly. It’s two in the morning -
no time to be returning alone to a house which holds such tragedy.
I need moral support for this.
    She took her mobile phone from her pocket and tried to
remember Henry Christie’s number. ‘Phone me any time,’ he’d told
her. Oh yeah, she thought sardonically. He’d really appreciate me
calling him at this hour, wouldn’t he just? His wife would be none
too happy either.
    The fleeting image of Henry asleep in the same bed as his wife
made Danny wince with jealousy. She slid the mobile back into her
pocket, put the key into the lock once again, turned it and pushed
open the door.
    A musty aroma wafted to her flaring nostrils.
    She looked towards the closed door of the kitchen. Where it had happened. And stepped across the threshold on to a pile of letters
which cracked beneath her shoe. Geena had been collecting the mail
for her, but it was about two weeks since the task had last been
done. There was a small mountain of the stuff, mostly junk. She
stepped beyond it into the hall, closed the door behind her and
stood there for a moment in the darkness. All she could hear was
the beating of her own heart and the nervous rasp as she inhaled,
exhaled, shallowly.
    Her hand reached for the light switch.
    The light came on, illuminating a familiar scene.
    In sudden flashback, she saw
herself, three months before, treading slowly down the hallway
carpet in her bare feet, a dressing gown wrapped tightly around