Free Kill Clock by Allan Guthrie Page A

Until he'd got Hilda, he hadn't known that a dog could be shy about taking a dump. Made him laugh. Usually. Wasn't in a laughing mood right now though. Things to do. Slapheads to sort out.
    He put his hands on the car bonnet and jumped onto it. Stayed in a crouch to stare at the driver. He was sucking his finger. Probably cut it picking glass out of his clothes. He looked at Pearce, eyes wide, and let his hand fall to the side.
    Pearce stood up, his back foot slipping a fraction on the wet surface. Baldie was still staring at him through the rain-pocked windscreen, forgetting to blink. Stunned, no doubt, at the sight of this madman standing on his car.
    Great. Learning a lesson, maybe.
    It was his lucky day, 'cos Pearce had plenty more to teach.
    Pearce planted his feet, then raised the right one and drove the sole of his foot into the windscreen. The blow jarred the bone in his heel but only resulted in a thin crack in the glass.
    Inside, Baldie cowered, hands in front of his face, palms out. Scared now and making no attempt to hide it.
    Pearce kicked the windscreen again. Same spot. A few cracks this time. Bigger ones.
    "No, no, no." Baldie clasped his hands together. Looked as if he was about to cry. "Don't."
    Third time, the windscreen crunched, spider-webbing from top to bottom. Milky splodges streaked across the glass. Good enough. No way Baldie would be able to see out of that.
    Pearce jumped down. Content to leave it at that and continue his stroll with Hilda.
    Baldie opened the door. "Look what you've done."
    By now, the pregnant guy and his crippled mate had been joined by a clutch of other curious patrons outside the pub to watch the entertainment. Most likely they'd only expected a game of pool and a spot of karaoke tonight, so a ruckus like this was a real bonus.
    Baldie shook his arms and bits of glass dropped to the ground. He balled his fist. "I'm gonna …"
    "What?"
    No reply. Baldie just stood there working his jaw, silently, as if he was chewing his tongue.
    "We done?"
    Still nothing.
    "Thought so." Pearce walked away.
    He hadn't gone more than a few steps when he heard the car door click shut. Then the engine roared. Seconds later, he turned as the vehicle screeched to a halt just short of his leg. Again.
    "You're paying for this." Baldie's voice was high and loud. "Don't think you're not."
    Clearly not taking instruction too well.
    Pearce swung round the side of the car, opened the driver's door and reached inside. Baldie put his arms up to protect himself, but Pearce batted his arms to the side and pulled him out, sending him sprawling onto the road. Splinters of glass covered the driver's seat. There was a coat in the back, though, which Pearce dug out and draped over the seat to form a protective cushion. Then he climbed inside and sat down on it, carefully.
    "Hey." Baldie staggered to his feet. "What do you think you're doing?"
    Pearce closed the door.
    Baldie shoved his hand through the hole where the window used to be.
    Pearce grabbed the wrist and used Baldie's momentum to pull him forward. His face bounced off the roof of the car with a dull sound like a dropped mug hitting carpet.
    That had to hurt.
    Pearce let go.
    Long time since he'd been behind a wheel. Hadn't had much experience before he went to jail, and since he'd come out, he'd not had the chance.
    First thing, he put on his seatbelt.
    Right. The engine was still running. He pressed in the clutch, found first gear and applied a little power. The soles of his boots were pretty thick. Not the best footwear for driving. But that didn't really matter. He wasn't going far.
    About twenty feet to the left would do. That's where the wall was.
    He stepped on the accelerator. Hard to see through the busted windscreen, but he knew roughly where he was headed.
    He had fun rushing forward for a few seconds, and then:
    BANG.
    Twenty miles an hour when he hit. Caught the wall a little side on, the impact jolting him forward. He rolled his neck, checking