He did not know of Isaac. He had no way of conjuring in his mind the small hunched figure in a cell corner with the bruises refreshed and alive around his face who had denounced Timofey.
The information he had bartered would purchase Isaac a few more hours before they took him from his cell for the last time. A few more hours: that was the value of the old man's life.
Four bullets they fired at him. Three to buckle him in the water, a fourth to be certain the job was completed.
Deep in her hole in the river bank the kingfisher and her family waited for the screams to pass.
Half a day she stayed there before hunger overtook her fear and she emerged again into the slanted light of the late afternoon and tripped to her perch to wait and to watch. The water beneath her was stained where the main current had not cleansed it, and though she remained till the dusk the fish did not come again.
