Where had it gone wrong? How had Straker escaped from his captors? As Mason hunched there on the greasy oil-stained concrete floor, yet another question burned into his mind. Where was Straker now? If he was out there, alive, he should have emerged.
Hope flared in Mason’s breast. There might still be a chance. Continue reading
The dim light in the alleyway pooled down onto the huddled figure. Late at night, in this less salubrious area of London, there were few late-night revellers. Not even an insomniac dog-walker. But the man had been spotted nonetheless. It was dealt with in the usual efficient manner. Photographs, forensic evidence, SOCO’s. Processed, collated, labelled. Then the body removed to the central morgue for the next step. Formal identification and cause of death. Continue reading
‘Hey, that’s my chair!’
‘Yeh, well you weren’t sitting on it. So it’s mine now.’
‘Look, I had it first. Get up right now and let me have it back.’
‘Or you’ll do what, little brother?’ Continue reading