[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
who could easily identify the fellow I want to catch, as you ve had prior experience with him.
Who is it? Nick set his forearms on the table and removed them promptly as he felt his sleeves sticking
to the wooden surface.
Page 155
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Dick Follard.
The name took Nick by surprise. Unlike the average criminal in London, most of whom were
opportunists, Follard was of that category considered to be the criminal elite, both skillful and soulless.
Nick had arrested Follard two years ago, after the bastard had robbed the house of a prosperous
attorney and killed the man and raped his wife when they d offered resistance. However, Follard had
been spared the gallows and been transported instead, in return for offering evidence against his
accomplices.
Follard was sent to Australia, Nick said.
He s come back, Sayer replied with a grim smile. Like a dog to its vomit.
How do you know that?
I can t prove it, unfortunately. But there have been rumors of sightings lately, not to mention a string of
violent robberies that look exactly like Follard s work. Yesterday I questioned a poor woman who was
raped by a thief who had broken into her home and killed her husband. Same method of breaking in,
same knife-work on the body, and the woman s description of her attacker matched Follard s right
down to the scar on the right side of the neck.
Jesus. Frowning, Nick pinched the bridge of his nose as he pondered the information. I can t believe
that Morgan would send you to catch Follard alone.
He didn t, Sayer said cheerfully. He wants me to question some of Follard s old cohorts and give him
a report. I d rather just bring Follard in directly.
Nick couldn t help grinning at that, knowing exactly what Morgan s reaction to that would be. If you
succeed, Morgan will flay the hide off you for such damned stupid showmanship.
Yes& and then he ll kiss my bony arse for capturing a returned transportee. And I ll be on the front
page of theTimes , with scores of women begging for my attention.
Nick s smile turned wry. That s not as enjoyable as you might think, he informed his friend.
No? Well, I d like to try it, nevertheless. Sayer cocked his brow expectantly. Are you game?
Nick nodded with a sigh. Where do you want to start looking?
Reports are that Follard has been seen in the slums between Hanging Ax Alley and Dead Man s Lane.
It s like an anthill with all the holes in the walls, and tunnels between the cellars
Yes, I know the place. Nick kept his face expressionless, although he was aware of cold distaste
coiling in his belly. He had gone in those slums before, and even with his high tolerance for the horrors of
the underworld, it was a nasty experience. The last time he had visited Hanging Ax Alley, he had seen a
mother prostituting her child for gin, while beggars and whores crammed in the narrow lanes like
sardines.
We ll have to search quickly, Nick said. Once they realize we re in the area, word will spread fast,
and Follard will slip away before we ever clap eyes on him.
Page 156
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Sayer grinned with barely repressed enthusiasm. Let s go, then. You lead the way.
They left the tavern and made their way through streets bisected with open gutters, the stench of dead
animals and rotting garbage hanging thick in the air. The decaying buildings leaned against each other as if
in exhaustion, groaning with every strong wind that blew against them. There were no signs to identify
streets, nor were there numbers on houses or buildings. A stranger to the area could easily become lost
and quickly find himself robbed, carved up and left for dead in some dark yard or alley. The poverty of
the slum inhabitants was unimaginable, and their only escape was the temporary one to be found in a gin
shop. In fact, there was a gin shop on nearly every street.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]