22
In the murky gloom of the public bar, Richard groped around amongst various glasses and bottles underneath the counter, searching for the one thing he needed. Meanwhile, Brian quietly and methodically opened bottles of spirit and emptied their contents over the wooden counter. He must have found at least twenty bottles of whisky, vodka, and brandy, and the smell of the alcohol alone was so overpowering it caught the back of his throat, forcing him to hack and cough.
“We’d be put away for twenty years for doing this,” said Brian stepping away with his hand over his nose.
Richard, not caring one jot for the stench, moved next to him, a gleam of triumph on his face. His thoughts were centred on his dad and how to get him away from those men. “Twenty years or not, we haven’t really got a
