looked at Purkiss. In his eyes was defeat, and acceptance.
Purkiss straightened, walked along the railing away from Vale. He saw movement below, and stopped.
From behind him Vale said: ‘So this is where you throw your badge and gun into the river.’
Down in the thicket of mud-smeared reeds something flopped wetly. A rodent of some sort.
‘What’s it to be?’ Vale said.
Purkiss turned to look at him. ‘What do you think?’
Вы читаете Ratcatcher
