– Amela – ~~~~~ ‘How? How could it be that at this time – at this place! – something this horrible could happen?’ ‘I don’t know…but ...ou better clean it up.’ ~~~~~ ‘I don’t want you anymore, Michael.’ Aligail fidgeted on her bed, tangling the covers around her hips and legs. Why’s that, sweets? A male’s voice resonated through her ears, sending a chaotic rush of shivers along her spine. She grabbed one of her pillows and groaned into the fabric. She was annoyed and confused. ‘Please, just go. Axes and sawn-off shotguns were more like them. Fighting off the fog that seemed to be seeping into his brain, Rotkoff thought hard, his analytical mind sifting the possibilities, but coming up blank. …whispering. ‘He’s conscious I tell you.’ A low, deep voice with a South London accent. ‘No, he can’t be after the dose I gave him.’ A thin, nasal tenor – a professional voice – a Doctor? Maybe he was in hospital. But how could he be? ‘Keep your voices down. We mustn’t disturb his wife and kids.. More

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