Ordinary Thunderstorms

18

BOZZY HANDED OVER ADAM KINDRED’S mobile phone and his wallet containing his credit cards.

Jonjo fanned them out. “They’re all American — except one.”

“Yeah. We was going to come back to him — get the pin numbers. Zaz kicked him too hard, so we was a bit, you know, emotional. That’s why we left him. When we come back — he gone.”

“Stop moving around like that. Getting on my nerves.”

“Sorry, bruv. Flat.” Bozzy tried to hold himself still.

“And don’t call me ‘bruv’. I’m not your brother — not in any sense of the word.”

“Safe. Check it, boss.”

Jonjo put the cards and the phone in his pocket and gave Bozzy a couple more twenty-pound notes. From another pocket he drew out a roll of printed copies of Kindred’s wanted advertisement and handed them over.

“Go round the estate. Show this to people and ask if they saw him that night.”

Bozzy looked at Kindred’s picture.

“That was the mim we jacked, yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s wanted for murder. Killed a doctor.”

“Cunt.”

“Ask around,” Jonjo said, then looked at the soles of his boots — he had stepped on something moist and sticky. He wiped the mess off on one of the mattresses.

“You want to burn this place,” he said. “I’m not meeting you here again, got it?”

“Got it, boss.”

“Find him,” Jonjo said. “Somebody on this estate knows where Kindred is.”