The Warehouse of Lies

“In my experience, those who beg for mercy seldom deserve it.”

The sentence echoed around the empty warehouse and hung in the air like smog. Percy

Blaine levelled the ancient Webley and Scott pistol at the prostrate figure that lay

clutching his shoulder in pain. The stocky suited man rolled from side to side in agony.

Blood oozed from his right shoulder and began pooling under his right arm.

With a shaky voice Boris Waterman tried to weasel his way out of his predicament. In

his usual cocky style he blurted out, “Hey Percy couldn’t you have found something

newer to plug me with, rather than that ancient pop gun?”

Percy was not amused. In fact his patience was about dried up. He replied “Boris! Or

should I use your correct name Charlie Jones? Well Charlie, this Webley was handed

down to me by Granddad Blaine. Sure its old, but the ammunition is not and that’s what

counts. After all, I’m not laying on the floor with half my shoulder blown off.”

With great effort, Charlie pulled himself up into the sitting position. His face was

wracked in pain. Percy slowly circled the bleeding drug dealer, never taking his sights off

Boris the Blade, aka Charlie Jones.

Percy stood in front of Charlie and he pulled back the hammer on the Webley. It clicked

twice. Percy continued “Two clicks did you hear them you low-life? The third click you

wont hear trust me and you wont see the .38 bullet that’s going to pluck the life out of

you! So start talking who did you kill Charlie?

Charlie managed a half smile and said “Look Percy I’m your client and you’re a private

detective. There are rules for you. You just cant go around wasting people you mug.”

For a brief second Percy flashed back to the morning of July 2

nd

when he first heard from

Boris Waterman.

The day started like any other for Percy Blaine, Private Detective. Percy had gone to his

tiny office in Sloane Square, London SW1.

The answer phone was not flashing and there were no letters to answer. Only bills to pay.

Percy licked his lips and pulled his hand back through his thick dark hair, he thought to

himself

God I need a drink, I’m sure the doctor was only trying to scare me by saying