Ronald told him he knew these things. Told him to please stop speaking.

Sam thought: the man’s getting better.

Then Ronald jumps in front of a train as Samuel enters Birmingham.

Perhaps this curse would infect Samuel himself one day and he’d suddenly shoot himself in the head.

Or jump off this bridge.

He stopped and stared down at the traffic flitting beneath him. Watched it speed under his feet. Listened to the Doppler effect. Hypnotizing himself.

He wondered what it would take to clamber over the railings and jump into the path of one of the cars. This big old BMW, for example, being driven by an apprehensive middle-aged man who stared wide-eyed at him before swerving into another lane.

The moment passed. He was low but not low enough. He walked on.

From the other side of the road he heard the smashing of glass. Trouble ahead. He about-faced. He was reassured by this reaction. It seemed that an instinct of self-preservation was still working.

714

Attracted by the faint smell of chopped liver, an Alsatian pulling a security guard enthusiastically explored John Heron’s small holdall. Minutes later, inevitably, John was in the airport’s police holding room, deeply regretting bringing his gun to the terminal.

713

Cody Jameson held her breath.

After the glass had smashed, she’d heard footsteps but they’d turned and hurried away. She let her breath go and allowed her heart to slow before proceeding.

She reached into the broken pane and lifted the latch that would open the whole window. She prized the window free of the metal connectors which, had the alarm been set, would have alerted the police station. As it was, the LCD by the door was still gamely prompting the absent Frankburg to have another stab at the code.

Writers are thieves, she told herself.

Cody slipped into the building. She oriented herself. She waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the dark.

Not so long ago, Cody had broken into a house and started rooting around for trophies that would characterize the break-in. Mementos. Mementos unblocked the blocks. Started narratives. In this particular house she’d stolen a photograph, but as she’d crept into what she believed to be the study, her torch had picked out a sight of such breathtaking horror that her knees had buckled and she had crumpled quivering to the floor.

The far wall of this room was awash with blood. It seemed to have both old and new smeared and spattered all over it. There were patches that glistened in the light as if it had been spurted there by a victim only hours before. There was a stench that was sweet and rotten by turns and mingled with an unsettling burning smell.

Cody, throat aching with the effort of holding in her screams, had edged away from the wall only to find her hands and feet puncturing bags of gore that had been left on the floor.