The Spider Dance by Nick Setchfield

Author:Nick Setchfield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

15

The Moon dominated the Bay of Naples, caught at the midpoint of an eclipse. It looked huge tonight, so close to the city it felt like an occupying force in wartime.

Winter studied the totality from his seafront hotel, hunched over the guard rail that bordered the balcony of his room. He was in a cotton shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, starched white cuffs curling with perspiration in the sultry air. The bright wink of a Woodbine flared between his lips. It was his fourth so far and tasted like the tenth.

The umbra, the innermost part of Earth’s shadow, had obscured the face of the lunar surface. A veil of dust and volcanic ash in the atmosphere gave the satellite a coppery, blood-bruised hue. It burned sullenly above the dark Tyrrhenian Sea.

The Moon governed the waves, Winter knew. Tonight he could believe it commanded imaginations too, especially here, in Naples, where the streets were saturated with superstition. It was all about the signs and omens, his taxi driver had told him, a plastic Madonna dancing on a beaded chain that hung from the rear-view mirror. God knew the man needed faith to take on the carnage of traffic that led from Capodichino airport.

Winter took his eyes from the Moon and followed the curve of the bay, past the marina and the fat, twinkling cruise ships idling on the water. To the south he could see the rugged arc of the Sorrentine Peninsula. The islands of Ischia and Capri looked hazier on the horizon, almost insubstantial, as if not quite committing to being there.

His eyes were drawn, inevitably, to Vesuvius. The great lava-blackened hump brooded over the coastline, an ever-present reminder of death and fire, forces that would never negotiate with faith. Naples sat at the foot of the slumbering volcano, not quite cowering but always wary. That plastic Madonna would blister in its flames but people still clung to these trinkets as if arming themselves against fate itself.

What kind of trinkets did Winter have? Maybe he wore his experiences like objects of faith. All those years in the field, everything he had learned, everything that yes, he clung to, even now, taking the coin of a demon.

He had been sent to this city to kill a man. An undead man, perhaps, but that detail was a wrinkle, as was the fact he was doing this for money and not out of duty. A kill was a kill, he told himself. And he wanted this to be a neat, clean job, just like all those bullets he had placed in the name of the Crown. The majority of them, at least.

He thought of London, then, more fleetingly than he once might have imagined possible. There would be anger at Century House over his refusal to return for a debrief. He savoured that knowledge, pictured every livid vein on Faulkner’s temples, because it made him feel free. No doubt someone would be assigned to bring him home. He wished them luck. Naples, he sensed, knew how to hide you.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.