Read On the Loose for Free Online Page A

Paradise Chip Shop, Caledonian Road, and knew that he would have to carry out most of the conversion work himself. The first consignment of pottery and rugs was already on its way, and the task before him was daunting because he could not afford to hire a team of professional builders. Even though the lease he had purchased would soon need to be renewed, the handsome young Arab felt sure he could use his charm and wits to turn a profit. The site was good, a corner store in an up-and-coming area with plenty of passing foot traffic.
    As he walked through the empty room, his boots crunching on scattered debris, he studied the task ahead. The trickiest part would be the removal of the enormous ventilation system that wound across the ceiling before punching its way out onto theroof. He could get hold of the right equipment easily enough, but the physical element of the job was beyond him. Rafi’s left leg had always been weak, and would not support him if he tried to carry anything too heavy. What he needed to find was a strong labourer who would work cheaply and quickly.
    When the man with the shaven head and shoulders like an upended bed appeared in the doorway asking if he needed any work done, Rafi knew that fate had smiled upon him.
    Former Detective Constable Colin Bimsley needed to make some fast money. He had already drunk his way through the pitiful payment granted to him by the Home Office. He was now broke. Walking back toward King’s Cross tube station, he had passed the derelict takeaway outlet and watched the guy inside measuring up.
    ‘Do you know how to take one of these out?’ Rafi asked, pointing up at the cylindrical ventilation shaft.
    ‘Easy,’ said Bimsley. ‘I can get that down for you, and put in new electrics. I can handle just about anything except plumbing.’
    ‘That’s fine, I’ve already got someone for that.’ Bimsley walked through to the far wall and gave it an experimental slap. Dirt showered down. Lathe and plasterboard, it would come apart easily enough. He could render and cement the outer wall, reboard the interior, sand and paint, put in new electrical sockets—it wouldn’t take long. ‘So you’re not going to be cooking in here?’
    ‘No, I’m going to be selling homewares.’
    ‘You could apply for a grant from the local council.’
    ‘I don’t understand. Why would they give me a grant?’ ‘You’re going to be improving the area, mate. This road has too many junk food outlets attracting trouble. You’ll be doing everyone a favour. I could probably help you with that as well.’
    ‘I’m Rafi,’ said the young man, smiling broadly as he shook Bimsley’s heavy hand. ‘Let’s talk about the money over tea.’
    They agreed upon a fair price, and Bimsley offered to start at once. After making a trip to B&Q in Rafi’s van, they borrowed an industrial vacuum cleaner, a pickax, a drill and a box of tools from the mosque across the road, and set to work. Clouds of plaster dust billowed through the shop as Bimsley hammered through the partitions, tearing out the ventilation tubes to emerge looking like a herder caught in a sandstorm.
    ‘Hey, Rafi, the power’s still live in the back room.’ Bimsley lowered his paper mask and thumbed back through the white fog. ‘It must be on a separate circuit. I need to turn it off.’
    Rafi headed down to the basement, found the breaker box beside the meters and killed the power. Upstairs, Bimsley checked the light and assured himself that it was safe to proceed. Ripping down the last of the wall with the end of a crowbar, he waited for the dust to settle. Something smelled bad. A broken drain? He dragged a stepladder beneath a small, high window, chiselled through the crusted paintwork and forced it open.
    As the air became more breatheable, he shifted a stack of folding chairs, empty drums of ghee and flattened cardboard boxes away from a large white metal object as long as a coffin.
    ‘Hey, did you know you’ve got a freezer