The Secret Hours

by Mick Herron

Since this shanty town’s foundation, traffic had multiplied tenfold, most of the vehicles heavily laden vans, with scaffolding poles tethered to flatbeds as the drivers headed to renovation jobs in the surrounding area; work which hadn’t extended as far as repairing the potholes their vehicles left behind.

those who’ve garnered more power than wiser minds would have allotted them tend to think themselves above the reach of law.

Nowadays, in a world whose surveillance techniques had become so sophisticated you’d hesitate to have a chat within earshot of your fridge,

‘I see you got your scarf back.’