announcing one and only one thing: sex. In two steps he turned from a tired barfly into a prizefighter tensing before a bout, stepping into the ring where there would only be the two of them, he and the athletic, taciturn opponent with the hard eyes.
Let him be a little strange. At least he would get some sex.
But he had Evelyn with him. Evelyn was waiting at the door of the Black Cap, propping up the wall. Brian looked back. If he got Evelyn a taxi and went it alone, what might the night have yet to offer?
Turning, he walked straight towards the man in the leather jacket, towards the match.
The man did not smile, but looked him in the eyes.
Bing bing.
The man disappeared around the corner. Brian’s breath caught, and he turned one more time back to the Black Cap. Evelyn was waiting there, and Brian saw Evelyn see him – Brian waved, hoping that Evelyn would understand that she should wait while Brian arranged his entertainment for the night.
Striding around the corner, Brian found the man waiting for him, in the alley, still not smiling, just with that look. Brian looked the man over again, finding his previous evaluation accurate. A worthy opponent.
Brian heard the bell ringing inside him
bing bing bing bing
and thought: Evelyn isn’t going to come barging in here. She’ll know to wait. And then the man in the leather jacket extended his left hand. Brian looked at the hand, which was empty, and wondered why he was doing that again. Then an unimaginable pain struck Brian’s shoulder.
He felt the man’s other hand at his throat, a crushing grip. Brian groped for his shoulder – he had never experienced anything like this. Did pain like this really exist? He tried to scream, but no sound came. The man’s stranglehold prevented him from crying out.
The man held him in his grasp. Brian saw his eyes and felt a rending pain.
He tried to hit, to flail, but the man’s squeezing sapped his strength.
Air. He gasped for air, but the man’s grip held. Second by second Brian felt himself suffocating.
Movement at the corner. Someone was coming. Brian recognised Evelyn – drunk Evelyn was coming to look for him. The man in the leather jacket released his grip on Brian’s throat, but the squeezing in his shoulder was spreading inside, something horrible was spreading through him. He had to warn Evelyn, he had to scream, but the sound wouldn’t come out.
As he fell to the ground, Brian saw the man in the leather jacket turn towards Evelyn.
10.
The discovery of three bodies at one time shocked the entire country. Left on the street in different parts of London during the night, they triggered special reports on every television channel. The police cordoned off the surrounding streets for their investigation and called in dozens of detectives from various police divisions in the Greater London area. Dubbed Operation Rhea, the authorities said the police inquiry would be one of the largest London had ever seen.
Most people had no points of comparison for the murders. They had a place in their minds for alcoholic fathers who went crazy and shot their families and then themselves. Cases like that fell into a certain category, just like cars skidding off the road, individual gangland assassinations and people freezing to death sleeping rough in the winter.
But three bodies at once, thrown out on the street like rubbish? Things like that didn’t happen. The idea was difficult to accept. This was London, a city of order and culture, a collection of tiny old villages that grew together and spread into a metropolis, attracting a population of millions while still preserving its feeling of peaceful coexistence. This was England. They weren’t living in the middle of a South American drug war or riots in India.
Three murdered bodies was news for which everyone wanted an explanation.
Not particularly well concealed, the bodies were nevertheless left in places where no one would notice them other than at close range.
Let him be a little strange. At least he would get some sex.
But he had Evelyn with him. Evelyn was waiting at the door of the Black Cap, propping up the wall. Brian looked back. If he got Evelyn a taxi and went it alone, what might the night have yet to offer?
Turning, he walked straight towards the man in the leather jacket, towards the match.
The man did not smile, but looked him in the eyes.
Bing bing.
The man disappeared around the corner. Brian’s breath caught, and he turned one more time back to the Black Cap. Evelyn was waiting there, and Brian saw Evelyn see him – Brian waved, hoping that Evelyn would understand that she should wait while Brian arranged his entertainment for the night.
Striding around the corner, Brian found the man waiting for him, in the alley, still not smiling, just with that look. Brian looked the man over again, finding his previous evaluation accurate. A worthy opponent.
Brian heard the bell ringing inside him
bing bing bing bing
and thought: Evelyn isn’t going to come barging in here. She’ll know to wait. And then the man in the leather jacket extended his left hand. Brian looked at the hand, which was empty, and wondered why he was doing that again. Then an unimaginable pain struck Brian’s shoulder.
He felt the man’s other hand at his throat, a crushing grip. Brian groped for his shoulder – he had never experienced anything like this. Did pain like this really exist? He tried to scream, but no sound came. The man’s stranglehold prevented him from crying out.
The man held him in his grasp. Brian saw his eyes and felt a rending pain.
He tried to hit, to flail, but the man’s squeezing sapped his strength.
Air. He gasped for air, but the man’s grip held. Second by second Brian felt himself suffocating.
Movement at the corner. Someone was coming. Brian recognised Evelyn – drunk Evelyn was coming to look for him. The man in the leather jacket released his grip on Brian’s throat, but the squeezing in his shoulder was spreading inside, something horrible was spreading through him. He had to warn Evelyn, he had to scream, but the sound wouldn’t come out.
As he fell to the ground, Brian saw the man in the leather jacket turn towards Evelyn.
10.
The discovery of three bodies at one time shocked the entire country. Left on the street in different parts of London during the night, they triggered special reports on every television channel. The police cordoned off the surrounding streets for their investigation and called in dozens of detectives from various police divisions in the Greater London area. Dubbed Operation Rhea, the authorities said the police inquiry would be one of the largest London had ever seen.
Most people had no points of comparison for the murders. They had a place in their minds for alcoholic fathers who went crazy and shot their families and then themselves. Cases like that fell into a certain category, just like cars skidding off the road, individual gangland assassinations and people freezing to death sleeping rough in the winter.
But three bodies at once, thrown out on the street like rubbish? Things like that didn’t happen. The idea was difficult to accept. This was London, a city of order and culture, a collection of tiny old villages that grew together and spread into a metropolis, attracting a population of millions while still preserving its feeling of peaceful coexistence. This was England. They weren’t living in the middle of a South American drug war or riots in India.
Three murdered bodies was news for which everyone wanted an explanation.
Not particularly well concealed, the bodies were nevertheless left in places where no one would notice them other than at close range.
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