The Stalk Club

Начало книги

The mist gathered on the quiet Clyde River, curling and twisting in gentle eddies on the breeze.  It moved up the bank at a low point and billowed across the land, an invasion of fog that would remain until conquered by the sun later in the day.  A battered old Bedford tow truck gently backed down the slope toward the river’s edge, its burbling V8 engine the only man-made sound interrupting the dawn cacophony of lonely frog and bird calls.

The tow truck driver was old and tired but had dragged himself away from his warm bed and come down to the river nonetheless.  He had always found it hard to say no to a job.  With engine still running he tugged a lever at the rear of the truck, reversing its winch and playing out the twenty millimetre diameter cable that was tipped by two large battered steel hooks.  When he gauged that he had enough length coiled around his still thick arm he passed it over to a diver in full wetsuit with a single tank strapped to his back.

Читать дальше →