Riders Lost in the Storm

By Kenneth Vincent Burke

A crime goes wrong, a burglary backfires. Cat burglars Mickey Tanner and Finbar O'Toole flee - pursued by the force of the law and a gang of villains. They rough it out on Hampstead Heath and have a shoot-out in Waterlow Park that spills over into Highgate Cemetery. Mickey and Finbar run away from the monumental tomb of Karl Marx and on to an unkept area of the Highgate graveyward to hide behind the tombstones in their effort to evade the pursuers.

Riders Lost in the Storm is an enjoyable and entertaining book for all crime fiction fans

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hornbeam Press
• Release date: Feb 14, 42
• ISBN: 9780992814045

Book preview

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Chapter One

Mickey Tanner is lying in the centre of the double size bed with a multi-colour serial box design, top blanket. His jockey like body is pressing face down on the white pillows and white linen sheets.

-Mickey! Mickey! Mickey!

He lifts up his head and listens for the booming voice. He pulls back the bedclothes with a shove of his hand and dangles his pyjama stripe legs and feet out and over the side of the bed.

-There is someone at the front door. Can you answer it?

He nods his head with some doubt at her request and stares with distaste at the floorboards and the bathroom below.

Shirley Woods stands in front of the square mirror cabinet and white tile wall. She wears her black nylon underwear and dark blue woollen dressing gown over her angular body. Her high cheek bone face is plastered with white soap.

She runs the wet face cloth across the suds and rinses it out in the sink. She wipes her face dry with the white towel.

She holds her hand by the side of her head like an ear trumpet. She waits for the footsteps bouncing down the steps of the stairs. She hears nothing but silence. She waves her fist at the overhead dangling cord and light bulb.

-Bloody Mickey! You are a useless bastard!

She marches out of the bathroom and down the hallway. She slips the chain onto the latch before opening the door. In the gap between the dangling links of metal, door and frame is a middle age man. He wears a black cloth cap, dark blue overalls and carries in his hand a toolbox. Shirley does not like the look of him.

-Yeah. What do you want?

-I have come to mend the telly.

-I did not know there was anything wrong with it.

-I was told there was.

-All right, I suppose. It is in the front room.

Mickey stands by the foot of the stairs. The repairman walks by him to the door of the living room. Mickey watches him enter, turns his head and glances back at Shirley by the doorway. There is quizzical expression on his face.

-What was that all about?

-I don’t know.

She shrugs her shoulders to show she is mystified by it all. She ambles off in the direction of the bathroom. Mickey watches with a sense of unease and nervousness.

The door of the living room is pushed open by a foot. The repairman comes out with the toolbox on the top of the walnut colour television set. Mickey is surprised by the man. He holds out his arm like a pole and stops him.

-What is your game, mate?

-Don’t jump to conclusions.

-You are bloody trying to steal my telly.

-Hold on a minute.

He lowers his upper body and places the television on the floor. He picks up a clipboard from the top of the toolbox and shows him an official letter.

Mickey notices the top of the letter and the crested title of the court. He nods his head in agreement. He knows it is a claim for debt. There is nothing he can do about it.

He makes room for the man to make his exit. He looks back with some regret and annoyance. The silhouette of the man disappears from the frost glass window of the door. Shirley returns from the bathroom. She studies him with a sense of mystery and doubt.

-Mickey, what is going on?

-He is a bailiff.

-He cannot take the telly.

-Got any dosh?

-No, I haven’t.

-What can I do?

-You can’t do anything. No, bloody telly, is that what you are saying? Mickey, you are a bastard! You are bloody useless and spineless!

Shirley unloads all her hell bent scorn and spleen on him. Mickey is not happy with his life style. He has hit rock bottom and his own nadir.

Chapter Two

Mickey stands behind a large African woman with an orange scarf holding back the black rolls of dreadlock hair in place and a bright yellow robe.

She sways from side to side as she makes her way along the queue line. Mickey follows her with a bored expression on his face. He