Книга Thicker Than Water — читать онлайн бесплатно полностью

‘How about an Indian takeaway and a belly dance?’ I suggested.

My tastes run otherwise.

‘Be specific. I’m no way signing you a blank cheque.’

You feed me. And I’ll feed you.

‘Meaning?’

Bring me to it. This thing you want to kill. Set me free, so I can carve off a little piece of it for myself, and enjoy it at my leisure. When I’ve eaten my fill, I’ll tell you how to deal with whatever’s left.

I sat irresolute. I looked into Rafi’s eyes but Rafi only shrugged brusquely, his shoulders hunched and his mouth set in a grimace.

This was nothing to do with him, and he obviously wasn’t enjoying the experience.

Imelda saw my hesitation. ‘No deal,’ she said, a warning note in her voice. And I knew damn well she was right.

‘Tell me a way to do this that doesn’t leave you loose in the world when it’s over,’ I said to the invisible presence. ‘Meet me halfway, Asmodeus. If this is something you really want, make it possible for me to say yes.’

The hand stopped its restless movement and lay still for a few moments on the paper.

Then Rafi, with a wince, lifted it to head height and massaged the wrist with his other hand.

‘That fucking hurt,’ he said.

Pen was at his side in a moment, embracing him fiercely. Imelda turned to me, her face hard. ‘What did we miss?’ she demanded. ‘What trick did we miss?’

I shrugged. ‘We didn’t miss a thing. I think he’s been building up to that. Keeping a piece of Rafi under his control so he could pull a little coup when the right time came.

’ And why would that be now? I wondered but didn’t say. Why had he shown his hand?

Because he felt pretty d k fe

Rafi disentangled himself from Pen’s consoling arms and stood."

"‘You’ve got some more work to do,’ he said to me and Imelda, a tremor in his voice.

‘Yeah,’ I admitted. ‘You’re right.’ I took out my whistle and blew a low, sustained note while Imelda clamped her strong hands to either side of Rafi’s skull. We got busy.

Again.

11

I made the tail after I’d seen Pen onto the train at Peckham, and my feelings passed quickly from terrified alarm through consternation to a sort of dogged puzzlement.

This guy was at best an enthusiastic amateur, making himself obvious by keeping his movements broadly in synch with mine, keeping his shoulders hunched and his head lowered as if he was afraid of looking anyone in the face, and once stopping dead when I turned and looked back the way I’d come.