“The man with the bulging eyes had been opening the side door to the Ferry Club when Harry hissed his name. Instinctively, he pivoted, right arm raised to ward off an assault. Scowling into the unlit gloom of the alleyway, he called out, “Who’s that?” He sounded nervous. Harry moved out of the shadows. After a fifty-minute wait in the freezing night with only two dustbins full of decaying debris for company, his mind was as numb as his hands and feet. Since speaking to Jane Brogan, he had be...en fired only by the belief that answers to some of his questions might be found here. If Rourke was a regular, the people from the Ferry might know how to trace him. “We crossed paths last Thursday evening. You spilled beer over me.” Froggy stared at him with, Harry thought, relief rather than fear. Had he been expecting to be waylaid by someone else? “What do you want?” “To talk.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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