Necroscope: The Mobius Murders Read Online Free PDF Page A

place.
    Unaccustomedly dizzy and leaning against the brick wall to counter the sensation, the Necroscope shivered, hugging himself to stay warm—as if the chill on his soul was a physical thing rather than spiritual. And closing his eyes he waited for it to pass.
    But unbidden behind his closed eyelids—entirely unsanctioned, yet nevertheless etched deep on the screen of his memory—he pictured once again the fat murderer’s face: that look of malignant satisfaction as those heavy features reddened, bloating into an unnatural, florid mask of evil!
    For a single moment frozen, in the next Harry started massively when a hand fell on his arm!
    Then as his eyes jerked open and the awful face was driven from his mind, a gruff but concerned voice inquired: “’Ere, are ye all right, ma friend? Leanin’ on the wall like that? Needin’ a wee fix, maybe? Or hae ye perhaps had too much a’ready?”
    Recovering quickly from the shock, Harry shook the speaker off, straightened himself up and said, “What did you say? Do I need a fix?” But then, as understanding dawned he snapped: “No, I don’t need any kind of fix!”
    The man stepped back at once and said, “Ah see the noo that ye dinnae. But them that normally gets taegether here, they usually do. So what are ye? The polis maybe?” And then, hurriedly: “Mind ye, ah’m no dealer ye ken! Just a concerned citizen.”
    Now Harry inspected the other more closely. The man was in his middle years; weathered and unshaven, he wore badly scuffed shoes, faded jeans, and a patched jacket at least two sizes too small for his burly chest. But he appeared amicable enough, and his face was or had been open and friendly until the Necroscope had taken offence.
    That could have been a mistake, and now Harry took a different tack. “I’m sorry but you startled me. And no—I’m not a policeman. I was simply resting, that’s all…a dizzy spell. Maybe I got too warm out on the street. But it’s cooler in the shade of this wall, and I was just taking it easy. I’m sorry if I snapped at you. You surprised me…” Well , Harry excused himself, at least the first and last parts of that statement were the truth.
    Relieved, the other nodded. “So that’s all right, then. But this isnae a verra good place for a decent citizen tae rest, if ye take ma meanin’.” He nodded again, then made to turn away.
    “Wait!” said Harry. And as the down-and-out paused he continued: “I was resting, that’s true—but I was also looking for an acquaintance of mine. I…well I promised to help him out. Perhaps you know him? I believe there’s a problem with his leg, and I can’t help feeling sorry for him. I met him on the street close to here just a day or two ago.”
    “Oh, aye?” said the other, frowning thoughtfully. “And this yin ye’re on about, does he perhaps limp a wee bit, or maybe a lot? If so there’s more than a chance ah ken him.” And without pause he accurately described the murdered man.
    “That’s him!” Harry nodded. “I didn’t enquire his name, but I was supposed to meet up with him yesterday at about this time. As it happened, I got tied up with something and wasn’t able to make it. Is it possible you know his name and whereabouts?”
    “His name’s Angus,” the other replied. “Wee Angus, we call him. He limps by reason o’ the TB in the bones o’ his legs. He reckons he’s past helpin’, relies on drugs purely tae ease the pain. But that’s not the, er, prescribed medicines, ye ken. Wee Angus, he reckons doctor’s drugs are no good whatsayever.”
    Harry did indeed ken; that this must be a meeting place for various categories of addicts. “TB?” he repeated the other. “He has Tuberculosis?”
    “Aye, TB, the poor wee sod!” But then the informant’s eyes narrowed as once again he inquired: “The truth now: ye tell me ye’re no some kind o’ snoopin’ bobby in civilian clothin’, but can a man be sure o’ that?”
    Fishing in his