A Choice of Enemies
“Something more alarming than the bad taste in his mouth was hounding him, but the nature of his complaint was elusive. Norman rose warily, like one who expected his right to rise to be challenged. But this wasn’t the air base. Neither was it the hospital. This was his own room in Hampstead. The clock on the floor, his desk, his books, even the cigarette burns in the rug, were exactly as they should be. Norman put on a clean shirt, got into the suit that he had meant to take to the cleaners, and... shoved ten one pound notes into his pocket. The rest of his things he left on his desk.
Outside, he wandered down to Swiss Cottage. Something was bothering him. But whatever it was would, he felt, reveal itself to him around the next corner, like the fires he had chased as a boy. But around the next corner and the one after that it was all the same: rain.
In the tube station Norman began to suspect that he was being watched. Eight times he read a poster urging him to bring the Evening Standard home to his wife.MoreLess
Outside, he wandered down to Swiss Cottage. Something was bothering him. But whatever it was would, he felt, reveal itself to him around the next corner, like the fires he had chased as a boy. But around the next corner and the one after that it was all the same: rain.
In the tube station Norman began to suspect that he was being watched. Eight times he read a poster urging him to bring the Evening Standard home to his wife.MoreLess
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