Gray Justice

Published by Alan McDermott at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Alan McDermott

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy.

Alan wrote this book in his spare time.  If you want to read more of his work, please make sure you pay for a copy so that he can quit work and realise his dream of writing full time.

You may not reproduce this work, in part or in its entirety, without the express written permission of the author.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

I would like to thank Claudio for the cover image and Sebastian for turning it into something special, and my family for putting up with me during the time it took to write this story.

Also by Alan McDermott

Gray Resurrection

Prologue

January 21st 2010

Stuart Boyle held the Subaru Impreza at a steady thirty miles per hour as he headed towards the town centre.  When he stopped at the red traffic lights he gazed around at the people in the cars, on the buses, walking the streets or sitting in their offices, most of them either at work or heading to work.

How could anyone be so stupid?

Imagine having to turn up at nine each morning and being forced to obey some spotty twat with glasses who doesn't like you just because you're from a poor area; or spending eight hours in a factory packing fruit or toilet rolls.

And for what?  These people would be lucky to take home £200 a week after tax, yet here he was in a nice motor that took just three minutes to nick and would earn him £500 by the end of the day.

That fact that he regularly got caught didn't bother him: it was an occupational risk he was willing to take.  Capture was simply an inconvenience, another few hours spent in a cell when he could be out casing his next hit.

No, as things stood, work wasn't for him.

He caressed the wheel of the Subaru he had stolen the night before, wishing he could keep it a bit longer, but he'd already told Sammy Christodoulou that he had it.  Sammy wanted it straight away, and you didn't fuck with Sammy.  No, best to hand it over, take the cash and see what tomorrow brings.  Maybe he'd keep the next one to himself for a few days.

“See what other music they got.” he ordered Martin Kyle, who was sitting in the passenger seat.