Free CAUSE & EFFECT by DEREK THOMPSON

indeed.
    Once the photo session was done, he stumbled back to bed and set both alarms. From what he remembered of those sleeping tablets Karl wouldn’t hear an earthquake.
    Morning caught up with Thomas around seven. He didn’t attempt to move Karl until there was hot, strong caffeine at the ready.
    “Come on — it’s half seven. Time you shifted your arse.”
    Karl rolled back the top of the duvet and wiped his eyes. “Is that coffee I smell? Fantastic. I’ve been thinking. I want to test fire the rifle.”
    As Thomas stared into his mug of roasted goodness an idea leapt out. If Karl was after ballistics then he didn’t know where the rifle came from. Time to enlighten him.
    Karl didn’t speak until the end. “Why didn’t you tell me, Tommo — that night after Caliban’s?”
    “It was only a job until today. I had no proof of anything. And besides, we’ve both had stranger requests.”
    Karl’s face was a study in disappointment. “Either we take the rifle to the shooting club, or . . .” He paused to let him fill in the blank.
    “We go somewhere more private — the scrap yard?” Miranda’s brothers’ scrap yard in Wapping.
    “Perfect, and it means I can still meet Ken at midday.”
    “You’re kidding me? Despite everything I’ve told you you’re giving it back to him?”
    “It’s a little late for a lecture on ethics.” Karl reached for his coffee. “And by the way, your rubber plant over there — or whatever the hell it is — might be a little sleepy for a while.”
    Thomas coughed quietly.
    “For future reference, when you’ve secretly stirred something in, leaving the liquid swirling is a bit of a clue. Shall we cut the crap now — I’m on your side, remember?”
    He really wanted to believe that. “So what’s going on? Jesus, Karl . . . a gun — the Old Man had me deliver a gun . . .” He couldn’t say the ‘m’ word.
    “Let’s start with what we know.” Karl smiled to sweeten the pill, but it still left a bitter taste.
    He printed off the two photographs of keys while Karl got his brain into gear and his trousers on. The photos were identical, same serial number and scratch marks.
    “It’s a special Ingersoll key – for municipal locks. Ken gave it to me in the pub when you were playing darts. Next question?”
    “Why not confront Sir Peter today?” Even as he said it he knew the answer. Karl would want to know everything so he could exert the maximum leverage with it.
    “I’ll make you a promise, Thomas. When we get to the bottom of it you decide what we do about it. I’m serious. Now, are you going to ring Terry or shall I?”
    Thomas picked up his phone. “What about ammunition?”
    “Leave it to me. This rifle is like an old friend.”

Chapter 14
    Thomas tapped the steering wheel and stared at the locked scrap yard gates. Already past eight thirty and no other bastard had shown up. Karl, he could forgive — at least he had bullets to collect. He stifled a yawn. Jesus, what a world he inhabited.
    Another text came in from Ajit: Are you avoiding me? And speaking of guilt and avoidance, he hadn’t contacted Miranda for a while either. Funny how spending time with Karl tended to push everyone else out of the frame.
    He was on the point of ringing Terry when a cobalt-blue Peugeot roared up. Terry gave him a thumbs-up, got out and unlocked the gates. He looked hung-over. Thomas drove in after him. Karl had been quite specific about the depth of target he wanted, so they made a scavenger hunt around the yard.
    By the time Karl put in an appearance, fifteen minutes later, they’d assembled an assortment of boards, posts and a couple of old car doors, ready for the build phase.
    Karl took charge, instructing them how to reinforce the planks with wooden pallets so that the target stayed upright. Once it was all set up, he paced away what seemed like a ridiculous distance and turned, shifting his head from side to side like an owl. Finally, he made a line in the