Lethal Kisses by Ellen Datlow

Author:Ellen Datlow
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781504025645
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2016-03-28T16:00:00+00:00

UNFORGOTTEN

by

Christopher Fowler

Christopher Fowler lives in London and runs a film promotional company and a movie development company. He has published six novels including Rune, Red Bride, Darkest Day, Spanky and Psychoville. He is also the author of four story collections, City Jitters, City Jitters 2, The Bureau of Lost Souls and Flesh Wounds.

Fowler is adept at bringing London alive, first in the novel Roofworld, an imaginary place high above the city streets, then in his short-story collections. He continues to depict London in all her manifestations …

It cannot think, of course; fanciful to imagine it could, for how would so many millions of lives make themselves heard, distilled into a single voice? But if – just if – there was such a thing as a collective intelligence, what would it be saying now, the voice of London!

During the trial of Captain Clarke at the Old Bailey in 1750, the court became so hot that the windows had to be opened, and the foul germ-laden stench from nearby Newgate Prison that blew in killed everyone sitting on the window-side of the court – all forty-four people.

‘How much do they want for the sale?’

‘Three hundred and seventy grand. That’s what they figure it’s worth at today’s prices.’

‘I’m in this business to make a living, not to be bent over a table and fucked stupid.’

‘I’m sorry, that’s what their man told me to tell you.’

‘Well, you can tell them –’ The door opened behind Marrick and his exhausted secretary stuck her head into the room. Marrick nearly fell off his chair trying to see who it was.

‘For fuck’s sake, Doris,’ he exploded, ‘will you stop creeping around like Marley’s fucking ghost?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Marrick, I’m about to vanish for the night, and your wife is here.’ Doris tossed the information into the room like a lit firecracker and beat a hasty retreat.

Marrick banged his chair upright. ‘Harrods must have declined her credit cards again. This is all I fucking need. Excuse me, gentlemen. Jonathan, see if you can talk some fucking sense into the sales agent. Try to make him see that I’m not a completely heartless bastard. You know – lie.’ The door slammed and he was gone in a cloud of acrid cigar smoke.

Jonathan Laine didn’t much like his boss; the man had no respect for anything or anyone. Adrian Marrick trampled a path through life in a cheap suit, shouting and shoving all the way. The technique worked, up to a point, but Jonathan could not see the company expanding beyond this dingy Holborn office. There were barriers of class in the city, invisible lines that could not be crossed by a marauding loudmouthed oik from south London.

Jonathan was not complaining; at the age of fifty-seven he was at least still employed and making a subsistence wage. His boss was just past his twenty-fourth birthday, and although it sometimes seemed strange to be working for such a young man, Marrick possessed a cunning far beyond his years. He could even

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