Retribution - A Dish served Cold

Chapter Twenty-three

Seated by the fire in his local, John warmed his hands before ordering his meal.

He nodded to the dozen men propping up the bar, talking and laughing while enjoying their drinks.

From behind the bar, Heather smiled and strolled across.

"We have freshly made steak pie or Hungarian Goulash. I'd call it a stew. It's good I had some for my supper."

He looked into her eyes. "I'll have the stew and a pint of Spitfire. Thank you."

As Heather left, a tall, muscular man moved from the bar towards her, but as he tried to grab her, she sidestepped.

John recognised him as one of the Brothers minders/drivers, laughed louder than he should have.

Well oiled, the man staggered across towards John. "What have we here? It's the old man who made me look an idiot in front of my boss."

"Pete Dobson, that's a no brainer. You are a first-class idiot. Everyone knows that, including your wife."

"What do you mean. My Mary's devoted to me."

John stood and grinned. "That's what most of her customers say. The remainder pay and fuck her, although I've heard she does a great blow job for a fiver."

John sensing the moment, stepped back as Pete's right fist missed striking his nose by a millimetre. "Wrong move. What you should do is this." His toecap hit Pete's left kneecap with force as a clenched fist struck his stomach. Pete doubled over his head, striking the table breaking his nose. John grabbed him by the hair and ran him headfirst into the brick fireplace from where he collapsed, bleeding to the floor.

Tony, the owner, brandishing a baseball bat, raced from behind the bar. "You alright, John.

"I'm fine, but this needed a lesson in manners. Did you hear what he said? He called me an old man."

Tony laughed. "I'd appreciate your help throwing him out."

"Is it still raining?"

"Persisting."

"Good, it might sober him up."

"I'd take care if I was you. No dark alleyways on the way home. He's a nasty piece of shit who works for the Little brothers."

John seated himself. "I know. Any chance of eating my supper in peace."

"No problem. I'll send Heather over."

When John placed the fork and spoon on the empty plate, Heather appeared at his side. "The boss says you might want to leave by the back door. David Little's car is outside.

John grinned. "I'll have another pint of Spitfire, please."

"What are you going to do," asked Heather.

"Make him wait. After all, it's warm and cosy in here, and it's pouring outside."

"You're mad. I'll get your pint."

He glanced at her. "You're not the first to say that."

For a while, he sat there thinking of his next move. When he stood, he strolled to the bar. "Tony, can I borrow your bat, just in case."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I suggest you keep out of it. A gallon of petrol through the letterbox does a lot of damage."

Tony handed him the baseball bat. "Bring it back when you've finished with it."

"Watch and learn," said John as the large end disappeared up his raincoat sleeve. His right arm lifted at speed, and the bat was his hand. "Stops arguments instantly."

Heather and Tony watched as John opened the pub door and walked out.

Outside he stood and waited in the rain as he surveyed the scene.

David Little alighted from his car. From the shadows to his right, Pete appeared.

"John. I thought we were partners."

"And look what he did to me, Mr Little. Can I rip his throat out?"

"Shut up, you moron. Why damage my property."

"I did what you would do. I went to the pub to enjoy a meal and drink a couple of beers. The baseball bat appeared in an instant. "This drunken idiot decided he'd beat me up as an example to others. He got it wrong."

David turned to Pete. "You don't work for me anymore. I suggest you take your wife and leave town before the sun rises. If I see you, it's the pig farm for the both of you. One more thing, apologise to my friend."

"He's lying, Mr Little. He attacked me."

"May I borrow your bat, John?"

He handed it to David. "Apologise, or I'll beat your balls into your throat, and you'll choke to death."

"I'm sorry. I made a mistake." Fear filled Pete's face.

"Now go," said David.

Both men waited until Pete vanished into the rain-soaked dark.

"I saved your life. You owe me. Watch your back, John. He's thick enough to ignore my threat."

"That's the second time tonight someone has said that."

John turned and entered the pub. "Tony, I didn't need your persuader. It seems I have a guardian angel."

Tony frowned. "I wouldn't trust David Little as far as I could throw him."

John smiled. "I never said I trusted him. Goodnight, I'm off to my bed."

Tony leant on the bar. "One piece of advice. "I haven't a clue what game you are playing, but make sure it's not playing you.

"I play the game by my rules." He stopped and added. "I make them up as I go along. That way, I win every time.