The first pale rays of sunlight peered over the horizon as the thick fog crawled off the Thames and swirled between the legs of the man dressed in black. The hushed lapping of the river masked the hollow clacks of his shoes on the cobblestones and, apart from he and the dark shadow of the carriage in the mist ahead, the city was asleep. A chilled breeze blew towards him, threatening his hat and moving his coat to let in some of the morning air. A gloved hand shot out to clutch it back. The man was calm but his pace was quick and he started when a policeman stepped out of an alleyway. The policeman, a stout man whose brass buttons held back more than they should, sauntered up to him.
“Oi! Why’re you out here so early?”
His breath reeked of stale whiskey. The man glanced back down the road at the fading silhouette of the carriage and tensed in frustration.
He slipped the policeman’s body into the river as quietly as he could. This had not been planned. The delay had been brief but he could no longer see the blur in the mist and he was forced to walk faster if he was to accomplish his task before the city awoke. But he was calm—he had done this far too many times for such a delay to put him on edge. Grinning, he disappeared after the carriage into the thick, blinding fog.
1 comment:
Love "stout man whose brass buttons held back more than they should..."
Nice way to describe it!
Post a Comment