Jack had been living the good life for a long while but still hadn’t made it out of the day to day dealings his position demanded of him . . .
The skinhead wipes the rain out of his eyes and cackles. “I’m glad I’m not the poor bastard that has to try and identify your body.” His pump-action shotgun is wedged against my throat. He is going to make one hell of a mess . . .
Fans of Ian F. Svenonius, take note: Ian is embarking on a nationwide tour to promote Censorship Now!!
The stink of Thames mud woke me and I knew he was back . . .