Free The Death Collector by Justin Richards

said, grabbing Eddie’s thrashing legs and lifting him up. The two men carried Eddie off into a narrow alleyway. ‘So nice to meet you again. Eddie, isn’t it?’ His voice was rough as gravel.
    Scarface set Eddie’s feet down on the ground again, and the man holding Eddie from behind relaxed his grip slightly. Not enough for Eddie to have any hope of pulling free, but he could stretch round and see that it was ‘Sidekick’ – the man who had been with Scarface.
    â€˜I’m sorry I got in your way,’ Eddie gasped as soon as the hand was removed from his mouth. ‘I can give you me day’s takings. To make amends.’
    â€˜You hear that, Davey?’ Scarface ground out. ‘Very generous I’m sure.’ His face thrust close to Eddie’s, the scar gleaming. ‘But we don’t want money off you, oh no. You’ve got something far more valuable than money, haven’t you, Eddie the Dipper.’
    Eddie swallowed. ‘Have I?’
    â€˜Oh yes,’ Davey – the man holding him – said with a high-pitched chuckle. ‘Much more valuable, that’s right Mr Blade.’
    Something caught the light as Scarface drew it out of his jacket. A knife. He angled it so that the reflected light shone in Eddie’s eyes. ‘Bet you’re wondering why I’m called Blade,’ he said. The knife moved slowly closer to Eddie’s eyes. ‘Maybe you think it’s on account of the scar?’ And closer. ‘Or perhaps you think it’s because I’m so good with the knife.’ Closer still.
    The knife stopped just shy of Eddie’s left eye. It was so close he could see the tiny flat dot of its point.
    â€˜But you’d be wrong,’ Blade said. ‘It just happens tobe my name.’ The knife drew back, accompanied by Blade and Davey’s laughter. ‘Like Draper or Smith, it seems I’m named after my trade.’
    â€˜What do you want?’ Eddie asked. His voice was husky and his mouth dry.
    â€˜Trade is a good word. ’Cos that’s what we want. In return for your life, or at least your good looks such as they are, you give us something. How’s that?’
    â€˜Anything.’ He tried to pull away but the arms still held him tight. ‘Whatever you want.’
    â€˜See?’ Blade snapped at Davey. ‘I told you he was a smart boy.’ He reached out suddenly for Eddie, and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to feel the prick of the knife on his face at any moment. But instead, Blade put his hand on Eddie’s cap and rubbed it round his head, ruffling his hair. Then he slapped Eddie on the cheek. ‘Good boy.’
    â€˜What do you want?’
    â€˜You lifted a wallet from a Mr Archer yesterday.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ Eddie conceded. ‘I lift lots of wallets.’
    â€˜Well this one, we want. Or rather, something that’s in it.’
    â€˜What?’ Eddie asked. He could read well enough to know which wallet had been Archer’s. But why did they want the man’s wallet – there hadn’t even been much money in it. Just some loose change, a business card and a burnt scrap of paper. Hardly worth the effort, in fact.
    â€˜Well, that’s for us to know and for you to mind your own business about.’
    Eddie nodded slowly. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I got his wallet – Mr Archer – I lifted it yesterday. Still got it in fact. Nice leather one. Got nothing but a few coins and a pocket watch today, so I kept his wallet till I find something better.’
    Davey let him struggle free enough to pull the wallet from his trouser pocket. He held it out to Blade, who snatched it at once.
    With Davey leaning over Eddie’s shoulder to watch, Blade opened the wallet and checked inside. ‘It’s empty,’ he snarled, throwing it to the ground in anger and reaching for Eddie’s throat with both hands.
    â€˜No,’