Calloway watched as he dug in his pocket for his cigarettes and lit up.
'Was there anything else?' Doyle asked, starting the engine.
Calloway shook his head and stepped away from the Datsun, catching sight of the carnations on the back seat.
'Who are the flowers for?' he asked.
Doyle answered without looking at him.
'A friend,' he said softly. Then he guided the car smoothly away from the kerb.
Calloway watched until the car reached the end of the road, the indicator winking, then headed back towards his own vehicle.
When he looked again, Doyle was gone.
The first spots of rain had begun to fall.
'Don't ever try to change what you don't understand.
Live your life on the sharp edge…'
– Sword
Вы читаете Knife Edge
