Rainstone Fall Read Online Free PDF

shortcuts to finding out how disabled he really was came instantly to mind but none of them were exactly ethical and at least one of them contravened the Dangerous Wild Animals Act of 1976.
    I cut the engine just before I reached the Oriel Hall car park, coasted in and chained the bike up out of sight of Lane’s house. All this faffing about had made me quite late this morning and no sooner had I found a relatively sheltered spot than Lane left the house, dressed entirely the same as before and carrying his blue shoulder bag. I walked to the street corner and peered round. He had hobbled to the bus stop again and the bloke with the raincoat, who seemed to be a regular himself, made room for him on the bench.
    I got the bike, sat with the engine idling at the exit to the car park until the number 7 bus rattled past, waited a couple of minutes, then followed.
    The bus really did go round in circles, cranking up Claremont Road and taking the less than scenic route through the estates of Fairfield before revisiting Claremont and grinding on into town. I hung well back and stopped several times to allow for the excruciatingly slow speed of the thing.
    Lane got off in Walcot Street. I quickly parked the bike opposite the Pig and Fiddle and followed on foot. I didn’t have to walk far. He disappeared into the Podium, an understated little shopping centre, and soon I was gliding up behind him on the escalator to the upper floor that housed, among some cafés and restaurants, the central library. Naturally I hoped that Lane had a secret job as a limbo dancer at the Indian restaurant but of course he went into the library, returned a couple of books, then disappeared between the shelves. The place was full of school kids sitting on the floor, working at some kind of project. I followed Lane into the history section, kept my eyes on the books until I picked him up in my peripheral vision, then casually looked him over. He was checking the shelves against some notes on a scrap of paper. His walking stick hung over his left forearm. He moved sideways along the shelf but there it was, that awkward jerk of the torso, as though the right leg refused to move by itself. The man had a limp. Either that or he was a very good actor indeed; it’s difficult to dissemble while concentrating on something else entirely. I’d come quite close to him so I picked up a book at random: Britain at War, Unseen Archives . I got so engrossed in the black and white photography that when I looked up again Lane was gone. In a panic I scooted round the shelves and eventually spotted him at the issue desk. I ditched my book and walked closely past him while he was busy exchanging pleasantries with the young librarian who was issuing his books and I managed to read a couple of the titles: Witchcraft in the Middle Ages and A History of Sculpture .
    Best to wait for him downstairs, I decided, and left the library. I was already on the downward escalator and just calculating whether to tell Haarbottle that Lane was most likely a genuine case when I caught sight of two ugly blokes blocking the exit at the bottom. They had just let through a woman with shopping bags and now plugged the gap again looking up at me with expressionless faces. Both were quite tall, both had short hair, wore dark rainproof jackets and gave me the creeps. The escalator carried me inexorably towards their waiting, unwelcoming arms. One of the men I’d never seen before, the other was Detective Inspector Deeks. Sod this for a laugh. I turned around and started running up the downward escalator, not making much headway but at least I wasn’t going any further towards the goons. Fortunately I was the only one on the thing at that moment. I looked over my shoulder. The other guy had started running up after me and was making headway just as slowly but being halfway to the top already gave me a sure advantage over him. Once I hit terra firma I could leg it down the back stairs and disappear into