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.A member of staff was asking Bert to move on from the supermarket's entrance.Eric watched as he struggled to his feet, pockets jangling with small coins as he did so.The old man began a shambolic walk along the pavement, the last few shoppers steering well clear of his uncertain progress.Eric shadowed him through the city centre, watching him pause at the tables outside a bar to gulp down the lukewarm dregs left in the glasses on one table.Other drinkers watched him with distaste and Eric heard a young man say jokingly to his mate, 'Dave, at least buy your dad a drink.'‘Piss off,' his friend laughed, reaching into his pocket and flicking a ten pence piece contemptuously at the old man.The coin bounced unnoticed off Bert's arm and rolled unnoticed by him across the pavement.The drinks all finished, he registered the customers as if for the first time and began asking them for change.A glass collector barred his circuit of the tables and Bert waved him feebly away, telling him that, as a para, he had protected the freedom of little runts like him.The staff member didn't move and so Bert resumed his wander to the outskirts of the city centre.He made his way slowly through the jumble of narrow streets behind the main railway station, walls covered with fly posters, women standing on street corners.At the end of one road was an off-licence, its windows crowded with neon-coloured stars shouting out special offers and deals.Bert went inside and Eric had to stop in an empty doorway, Scrawled on the surface of the door before him were the words, Urinal only please.Eric was puzzling over whether the message was sarcastic or a serious request when a voice behind him said, 'Looking for business?'He turned around and politely shook his head at the hollow-cheeked woman, but she wasn't giving up.'A nice slow blow job? My place is just round the corner.''No.Thank you,' he said awkwardly.She shrugged her shoulders and walked back to her position on the other side of the road.Another woman had begun to make her way over to try her luck when Bert reappeared on the pavement, a three litre bottle of 'Brite-Strike' cider held in each hand.Even from fifteen metres away Eric could see the silver flash on the label proudly announcing, 8.3%.Bert disappeared round the corner and Eric followed.Several roads later, he turned into one with a sign reading Wood Road.Slowly, he made his way to number 50 and Eric observed as he pushed a broken door open and made his way into the ground-floor flat.Back at his car, Eric removed the mobile from his glove compartment, turned it on and checked for a signal.He dialled the number and a few seconds later the phone in Rubble's cupboard started to ring.Chapter 31Startled by the sudden noise, Rubble stopped stirring the chicken broth.As he stared off to the side, thin bones rotated slowly around in the simmering liquid before coming to a rest at the bottom of the saucepan.Then he threw the wooden spoon into the sink and leapt across the room, landing on his haunches before the little cupboard.He yanked the door open, picked up the handset, pressed the green button and said excitedly, 'Agent White here.''Agent Orange here,’ Eric replied.‘Are you available for another job tonight?''Yes, Sir,' Rubble immediately answered.'Good, be ready for a 1:30 A.M.pick up.'Eric pressed the red button on his phone and returned it to the glove compartment.Looking at the people walking past, he decided that he needed somewhere quieter to prepare the syringe.A glance at the dashboard clock told him he had a few hours to use up, so he started his car and set off across the city.Fifteen minutes later he parked in a quiet courtyard behind a detached house in a far trendier area.Quickly he slipped on his rubber gloves.A small and deserted seating area was lit by an exterior light on the rear of the building.Using its glow, he sucked up twice the previous dose of Euthanol into the syringe.Then he replaced the protective cap, removed his gloves and returned the items to the small box under the driver's seat.After cracking his knuckles, he climbed from the car, locked it and walked round to the front of the building.Situated on a tree-lined street, the ground floor of the house had been converted into a two-room restaurant.Above the front entrance a sign read, Pulse - Vegetarian cooking for the heart and soul.Eric pulled open the door and entered a short hallway with stripped wood floorboards.Spanish guitar music floated around him, the aroma of freshly-baked bread infusing the air.On each side of him notice-boards were covered with assorted adverts, announcements and appeals.Pausing at a section marked wimmins stuff, he read a few.Hi, my name is Tony and I'm looking for a female travelling companion for a trip to India.Fully biodegradable tampons.Now available from the Eden Worker's Co-operative.114 Bakewell Street [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]