Gentleman Junkie

Начало книги

HE LOOKED DOWN from the fourth-floor window of the Professional Building, watching an old man in a junk wagon pulled by a spavined horse.

Even from the window he could see the milky white blindness of the horse’s left eye. It seemed fitting, somehow.

Walter Caulder turned away from the window, tasting the steel wool in his mouth. It was getting worse. A vagrant shiver flowed up from somewhere deep inside and he locked his arms about his body, trembling.

It was not going to get better, despite what Enid said. Trip-hammer pressures within his skull pistoned horizontally, threatening to cave his temples outward. A low, canine moan slid between his teeth, oily and hungry and lost in an instant

“Did you say something, Doctor?” Rita Berg turned her blonde head against the couch.

Caulder, an intense, short man with a heavy floss of prematurely grey hair, started abruptly at the sound of the woman’s voice.

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