The Chosen Seed Read Online Free PDF Page A

an equally unprepossessing sight. The filthy paint was peeling off the rotting wood, and the glass was black on both sides, mud outside and what looked like layers ofnicotine on the inside. The tattered net curtain was entirely redundant.
    He didn’t bother with the grime-coated bell – there wasn’t a hope in hell it would work – but instead rapped loudly on the door. He left it a few moments and then rapped again, and this time he heard a shuffling on the other side, and the sound of paper being moved.
    ‘If you’re from the council, then you can go away. They came yesterday.’
    The voice was well spoken, not the Fagin Cass had been expecting from the wrecked front of the house, but there was a tremble there that he recognised instantly: fear and paranoia. This was someone not used to talking to strangers – or talking much at all.
    ‘I’m not from the council, Mr Cornell, I wanted to ask you—’
    ‘ Dr Cornell. I have a PhD. I’m a doctor . You can’t keep coming round here. I have important work—’ The fragile voice was becoming more agitated. Cass slowed his own speech right down as he leaned in closer. ‘I’m just a visitor, Dr Cornell. I wanted to ask you some questions about someone.’
    ‘This is a trick so you can get in and take my things away.’
    ‘Honestly, I promise you, Dr Cornell, I’m not from the council.’ The outside of the house was a good indicator of the state of the inside. He didn’t envy whoever would eventually get in to clear out the clutter. This one was a hoarder. There was a need in the sharp edge of his voice that suggested someone desperate to make sense of things that they’d overthought. There were plenty like him among the lonely in London, people tucked away with nothing butpiles of junk for company. Maybe he’d come a long way for nothing.
    ‘Who do you want to talk about?’ Dr Cornell asked plaintively. ‘I don’t know anyone around here. They don’t talk to me.’
    Cass was willing to bet the neighbours gave this blight on their pleasant landscape a wide berth. They might not speak to him face to face, but they’d sure as hell be on the phone to the council, the police, anyone who would listen, demanding they get something done about him .
    ‘Alan Jones,’ Cass said. Across the road a young woman pushing a pram along the pavement stared over at him. He kept his face turned towards the door. He didn’t need any unwelcome attention.
    ‘Hello?’ There was silence on the other side of the door and Cass gritted his teeth in frustration. This negotiation was shaping up to take some time – time that Cass didn’t want to spend standing out on a doorstep with passers-by watching his every move. The last thing he needed was for someone to call the police because the crazy old man at Number 29 was being bullied by some bastard who wouldn’t leave him alone.
    ‘Go away.’ The aggressive edge was gone; Dr Cornell now sounded like a schoolkid, not sure if his friends were taking the piss or being serious.
    Cass leaned in closer, his nostrils filling with the scents of rotting paint and damp wood. Being anonymous wasn’t going to work with Dr Cornell. The man was too paranoid. ‘I’m Alan and Evie Jones’ son,’ he said quietly.
    ‘Their son’s dead. I read it.’ More shuffling on the other side. ‘I read it in the papers. He’s dead. All of his family.’
    ‘I’m their other son. Now please let me in – I need your help.’ He didn’t want to think about what state his life hadcome to if he was begging an old recluse like Dr Cornell for help. He pressed his ear against the door and listened. If Dr Cornell was calling the police then he had about ten minutes to get away. This was a residential area, and his running wasn’t up to much with his shoulder as damaged as it was – not that running would do him much good against a search helicopter. Basically, if Dr Cornell was ringing the police, then he was well and truly fucked. The only thing