look.
The terrible noise was so violent they all had hands protecting their ears as they joined her. Paula frowned. She had never seen anything like it. Thick lines, like missiles aimed from different directions, were shooting non-stop all over the screen. Newman used one hand to click the mouse. Made no difference. He hastily re-covered his ear.
Paula had glanced at her watch the moment the Internet went crazy. The diabolical racket continued, the eye- boggling lines never stopped skidding across the screen. When the noise ceased and the screen returned to normal Paula checked her watch again.
'That glitch lasted for exactly sixty seconds,' she announced.
'Let's go,' Tweed suggested. 'This new technology hasn't settled down yet.'
'But I've never experienced anything like that before,' Monica protested. 'Something very strange has just happened,' she insisted. But they were on their way out.
CHAPTER 4
It was 11.30 a.m. Lisa had eaten the breakfast Herb had brought to her room. Her body was tingling with the second shower she had enjoyed and she'd decided she would go out. She was dressed to merge with the area outside The Hangman's Noose. A shabby old pair of jeans, an ancient blouse, a windcheater that had seen better days and an old pair of shoes with metal rims. She slung a well-worn shoulder bag over her shoulder and her hair was covered with a ragged shawl.
Going downstair s into the bar she was looking forward to wandering round the market. She loved the atmosphere. As she headed towards the door Herb called out to her from behind the bar.
'Wait a tick, I'm comin' with you.' He turned to a formidable fat woman also behind the bar. 'Millie, dear. Look after the place. I fancies a breath of fresh air
They had just stepped into the street when the sun came out. Wandering among the market stalls Lisa revelled in the aroma of fresh fruit and vegetables. The cobbled street was littered with discarded cabbage leaves, and inhabitants of the old houses, attracted by the brilliant sunlight, leaned out of first-floor windows. Lisa stopped suddenly for a second, then resumed her slow walk.
'You've seen 'im,' said Herb.
'Yes.' She grabbed a pair of tinted glasses from her bag, put them on. 'Delgado. What's he doing here? He's a long way from Bulgaria or wherever he comes from.'
'That's why I came with you.'
Delgado, holding a large brown paper bag in his left hand, was standing on the far pavement, his dark eyes sweeping the area slowly. A giant, over six feet tall, he had a body to match his height. His greasy black fringe needed trimming and below it was a vicious face. A large nose broken in several places loomed above a wide cruel mouth, an aggressive jaw. He wore a long dark coat that almost reached his ankles.
'And he's brought a small gang of thugs with 'im,' Herb remarked. 'All foreigners. There's one.'
A small, powerfully built man, wearing a dirty baseball cap back to front, had stopped at a stall, grabbed hold of a banana, was eating it. The stallholder asked him to pay for it. The small man turned round slowly, finished his banana, threw the skin in the other man's face, waited. The stallholder decided not to make an issue of it when he looked at the culprit closely.
'I saw Delgado grab a leg of lamb off a stall, shove it into that bag he's holding. When payment was demanded Delgado produced a knife from somewhere. Blade must have bin eight inches long. He didn't pay.'
'What's going on?' Lisa asked.
'They're scanning the area. 'Ad a good look at my pub. They check out alleys, anywhere they could 'ide. That squat thug pinched the cap off Bert.'
'When?'
'They first appeared a couple of hours ago, got out of cars, scanned this area quickly, then drove off. I sent Bert after them on his motorbike. They drove to the West End, parked, then checked out expensive restaurants, discotheques. You name it. Now they're back 'ere.'
'You think they're getting ready for a riot?'
'Not yet,' Herb told her. 'Not if
The terrible noise was so violent they all had hands protecting their ears as they joined her. Paula frowned. She had never seen anything like it. Thick lines, like missiles aimed from different directions, were shooting non-stop all over the screen. Newman used one hand to click the mouse. Made no difference. He hastily re-covered his ear.
Paula had glanced at her watch the moment the Internet went crazy. The diabolical racket continued, the eye- boggling lines never stopped skidding across the screen. When the noise ceased and the screen returned to normal Paula checked her watch again.
'That glitch lasted for exactly sixty seconds,' she announced.
'Let's go,' Tweed suggested. 'This new technology hasn't settled down yet.'
'But I've never experienced anything like that before,' Monica protested. 'Something very strange has just happened,' she insisted. But they were on their way out.
CHAPTER 4
It was 11.30 a.m. Lisa had eaten the breakfast Herb had brought to her room. Her body was tingling with the second shower she had enjoyed and she'd decided she would go out. She was dressed to merge with the area outside The Hangman's Noose. A shabby old pair of jeans, an ancient blouse, a windcheater that had seen better days and an old pair of shoes with metal rims. She slung a well-worn shoulder bag over her shoulder and her hair was covered with a ragged shawl.
Going downstair s into the bar she was looking forward to wandering round the market. She loved the atmosphere. As she headed towards the door Herb called out to her from behind the bar.
'Wait a tick, I'm comin' with you.' He turned to a formidable fat woman also behind the bar. 'Millie, dear. Look after the place. I fancies a breath of fresh air
They had just stepped into the street when the sun came out. Wandering among the market stalls Lisa revelled in the aroma of fresh fruit and vegetables. The cobbled street was littered with discarded cabbage leaves, and inhabitants of the old houses, attracted by the brilliant sunlight, leaned out of first-floor windows. Lisa stopped suddenly for a second, then resumed her slow walk.
'You've seen 'im,' said Herb.
'Yes.' She grabbed a pair of tinted glasses from her bag, put them on. 'Delgado. What's he doing here? He's a long way from Bulgaria or wherever he comes from.'
'That's why I came with you.'
Delgado, holding a large brown paper bag in his left hand, was standing on the far pavement, his dark eyes sweeping the area slowly. A giant, over six feet tall, he had a body to match his height. His greasy black fringe needed trimming and below it was a vicious face. A large nose broken in several places loomed above a wide cruel mouth, an aggressive jaw. He wore a long dark coat that almost reached his ankles.
'And he's brought a small gang of thugs with 'im,' Herb remarked. 'All foreigners. There's one.'
A small, powerfully built man, wearing a dirty baseball cap back to front, had stopped at a stall, grabbed hold of a banana, was eating it. The stallholder asked him to pay for it. The small man turned round slowly, finished his banana, threw the skin in the other man's face, waited. The stallholder decided not to make an issue of it when he looked at the culprit closely.
'I saw Delgado grab a leg of lamb off a stall, shove it into that bag he's holding. When payment was demanded Delgado produced a knife from somewhere. Blade must have bin eight inches long. He didn't pay.'
'What's going on?' Lisa asked.
'They're scanning the area. 'Ad a good look at my pub. They check out alleys, anywhere they could 'ide. That squat thug pinched the cap off Bert.'
'When?'
'They first appeared a couple of hours ago, got out of cars, scanned this area quickly, then drove off. I sent Bert after them on his motorbike. They drove to the West End, parked, then checked out expensive restaurants, discotheques. You name it. Now they're back 'ere.'
'You think they're getting ready for a riot?'
'Not yet,' Herb told her. 'Not if
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