The English Assassin Read Online Free PDF Page A

piano. Grunting contentedly, she poured half the remaining contents of the bottle into another long-stemmed glass. She rounded on him, raising her glass with a leer and tossing off the best part of the contents. “’Ere’s ter yer!” The drink warmed her further and large beads of sweat sprang out on her happy face. She sidled up to Colonel Pyat, nudging him with her lumpy elbow. She winked and nodded a streaky orange head at the vodka. “Not bad.” She belched again. “Not ’alf! He, he, he!”
    Colonel Pyat clicked his heels and saluted. “I thank—”
    A piercing screech came from the coffin. They both turned their heads. “Gawd,” said Mrs C.
    Cautiously, Colonel Pyat went to peer in. “I wonder if they’ve been feeding him.”
    “’E never wos much of an eater.” Mrs C.’s bosom heaved as she joined the colonel and stared sentimentally down at her son. “I never knew where ’e got ’is energy from. Proper little fucker you wos, woncha, Jer?”
    The head rolled. The stink of brine was nauseating. The screech came again. The hands, thin and knotted, with broken nails and bruised knuckles, were rubbed raw at the wrists by the twisted nylon cords holding them in the coffin. The mouth opened and closed, opened and closed; only the whites of the eyes were visible.
    With a decisive and slightly censorious gesture Mrs C. looked away from her child, finishing her vodka. She glanced almost thoughtfully at the colonel before putting her glass on the Jacobean sideboard. She wriggled her massive shoulders, rubbed her left eye with the index finger of her left hand, gave the colonel a quick smirk of encouragement and said: “Well…”
    Colonel Pyat bowed. “Some of my men will escort you back to London.”
    “Ah,” she said. “That wos it…”
    “Madame?”
    “I wos thinkin’v seein’ some o’ th’ sights whilst I wos ’ere. Y’know.” Another wink.
    “I will instruct my men to make a tour of the city. Though there are very few sights left.”
    “Oo! All them solders all to meself! Oo-er!”
    “And thank you so much for your help, Mrs Cornelius. We’ll get your boy back to normal. Never fear.”
    “Normal! That’sa good ’un!” Her entire body quivered with laughter. “You’ll do, Kernewl! Eh? Har, har, har!”
    She shambled cheerfully from the room. “You’ll do!”
    * * *
    The Bohemian glass fell off the Jacobean sideboard and landed unbroken on the Persian carpet.
    The sounds from the coffin became pensive. Colonel Pyat was filled with sadness. He picked up the fallen glass and took it to the grand piano where he poured himself the last of his vodka.

     
REMINISCENCE (A)
    Beautiful love.
    Beautiful love.

     
LATE NEWS
    Terence Green, 9, and Martin Harper, 8, died last night when overcome by fumes from water heater while having bath in house in Estagon Road, Norwich.
    Sunday Times
, 5 April, 1970
    At least 90 Vietnamese men, women and children, held behind barbed wire in a compound at the Cambodian town of Prasot, were killed by machine gun and automatic rifle fire early yesterday, as a Vietcong force launched an attack in the area. The events surrounding the killings were not clear.
    The Times
, 11 April, 1970
    A French woman, aged 37, stabbed three of her children, killing one of them, before committing suicide in Luneville yesterday, police said. Mme Marie-Madeleine Amet stabbed Joanne, aged 14, and Philippe, aged 11, who managed to escape. But Catherine, aged 10, was killed.
    Guardian
, 14 April, 1970

     
THE ALTERNATIVE APOCALYPSE 1
    It’s a shame, really, said Major Nye as they stood on the flat roof of the looted dispensary and watched the barbarian migration cross the swaying remains of Tower Bridge. The sky began to lighten and to some degree improve the appearance of the horde’s filthy silks, satins and velvets. A few were mounted on horses, motorbikes and bicycles, but the majority trudged along with their bundles on their backs. Some were playing loud, primitive