Sunday, June 17, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 113.06

White sucked air through his teeth. “Really? 'Everything you need in one place'? It'll have to do.” He held up the corpse. “How did it survive for two days with an injury like that, eh?”

“I've heard of foxes gnawing off their own legs to escape traps.”

“Yes, but that's always the lower leg, below the patella. This poor chap is missing a huge piece of flesh.”

Peters shrugged. “Sorry, sir. I've no idea. You can write what I know about biology on the back of a stamp. I can disable a two hundred pound felon with a short stick but I haven't the faintest idea how a fox works. You should ask that all-knowing computer.”

“Except we can't because it was stolen by a robot this morning.”

“Ah. Good point.” Peters watched a car go past on the road, the first of the London commuters, at a guess, heading into Wells or Salisbury to catch the train to Waterloo. He glanced at his watch. “I'm glad I don't commute.”

“You'll have to if you want a promotion.” White folded the car blanket over the fox and slid it into the bag. “There aren't many openings in the south-west. If you want to get hight up the ranks you'll have to transfer to the Met. Unless you want to move north, anyway. Manchester or Birmingham.”

“Thought I'd stay here actually, sir. There's be an opening eventually.”

“Over my dead body, I suppose.” White handed him the package and stood. “Put that in the car, would you? I want a last shufti at the road.”

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