Gaslight
“The fence had an office in an alleyway in Soho, behind the grocer’s shop that the man’s wife ran for him as a front for the illegitimate business that made the serious dough. He had stepped out of the office into the teeth of a freezing, wind whipped evening, and he had noticed the Austin parked by the kerb, its engine idling and its headlights slicing through the mist. A man was standing on the pavement next to the car, the brim of his homburg pulled down tight across his forehead, obscuring h...is eyes. Another man was in the car. Harry set off towards the man on the pavement, almost experimentally, and was not surprised when he stepped into his path.
“You have to come with me,” he said.
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“No, china, ‘fraid you do––Mr. Sabini wants to see you.”
Harry was bigger than the man. He could have subdued him but he chose not to. Here was an opportunity.MoreLess
“You have to come with me,” he said.
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“No, china, ‘fraid you do––Mr. Sabini wants to see you.”
Harry was bigger than the man. He could have subdued him but he chose not to. Here was an opportunity.MoreLess
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