Mr In-Between [antikvár]

One AdrenochromeWhen the man was dead, Jon was cómpelled to tidy up the mess he'd made in the process of killing him. Because the man had put up something of a struggle there was a fair amount of furniture to be straightened, photographs uprighted and pillows to be fluffed, which he went about with efficient detachment born of a sense of contractual and personal obligation. He knew that little touchés, insignificant in themselves, could be surprisingly effective in context of the whole. It was a question of presentation.When the flat was tidy, he took the corpse beneath the armpits and hauled it with some difficulty into an armchair. Then he set about doing to it exacdy what the Tattooed Man had asked. It took a long time and considerable skill. When it was done he stood, wiping the blade of the scalpei on the arm of a chair, walked to the kitchen on stiff Iegs and washed his hands in cold water, soaping them with washing-up liquid. On the squeezy plastic botde there adhered a yellow price sticker, its legend blurred beyond legibüity, corners curled to reveal its white underbelly. Returning to the living room he stuffed his things into a small army-surplus rucksack. He picked up the tape recorder which sat on the coffee table, rewound the cassette then replaced it. He took caire to balance On top of the cassette player the printed card that read 'Play Me' in such a way that it would not be toppled by a draught.He took a moment to scrutinise the result. The Tattooed Man had asked for something besides a compensatory death. He wanted to open perceptual doors for those in whose