Live Fire
“Bradshaw took the Tube, then spent half an hour window-shopping to make sure he wasn’t being followed before he took a circuitous route to his destination. He didn’t see anyone who wasn’t Asian. There were two youths with baseball caps pulled low over their faces leaning against a wall at the end of the road, and as he walked by one took out a mobile phone. A man was sitting in an old Mini parked several houses down from the one Bradshaw was visiting: he spoke into a hands-free microphone, his face turned away.A waist-high wrought-iron gate, propped open with half a brick, led into a small garden, which had been paved over. Straggling weeds pushed their way up through the gaps between the slabs. Grubby lace curtains hung at the windows and the black paint was peeling off the front door. There was a plastic bell push to the right of the door, and Bradshaw pressed it with the knuckle of his right middle finger so as not to leave a print. From deep within the house he heard the rasp of a... buzzer, then shuffling footsteps.MoreLess
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