The Graft
“In the corner was a Calor gas fire which he lit with difficulty. The light here was dim but good enough if you had decent eyesight. It was freezing, though, and they needed some warmth, more than the fire would radiate, so he took out a small hip flask from his coat pocket and two metal shot tumblers. He poured them both a drink and they sipped it as they waited for Gary Proctor’s car to arrive. The place was empty except for a few black bin bags. ‘Nice and quiet here, Nick, it was a blinding c...hoice of venue.’ ‘We won’t be disturbed, don’t worry. Round here even if they heard screams they’d just turn the telly up.’ Nick refilled the glasses. ‘I still can’t believe it, Stevie. I remember now how he was always giving lifts to those young fellas we worked with. But then I’ve done it meself, you know, with the raves and that. They’re our employees. You just don’t think, do you?’ Nick sipped at his drink again before continuing. ‘Do you think he has done something like this before?MoreLess
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