Sunday 28 October 2012

Sowerbutt's Youth

Perez stopped, it was a cool night for the time of year. As he lit up a Player's, his two assailants struck. Thrust violently through the open door of a boarded-up shop by a giant of a man, his waiting accomplice broke Perez’s fall, then yanked his suit jacket down his back. His arms trapped, the giant rammed Perez against a wall.
A firm voice in the background said: “Wait, wait, wait. Let me talk to our guest.” As a boy, a theatrical agent at the Poplar Hippodrome had suggested an acrobatic career for Sowerbutt. It would have meant financial security for the street urchin who never knew his father and whose mother had disappeared with a boyfriend. In three smooth moves, he stood in front of One-Line, replacing his huge forearm across the Spaniard’s throat, delivered an impressive punch into the imprisoned man’s stomach and neatly side-stepped the spurt of gin and beer from Perez’s sagging mouth.
Hauling the unhappy Spaniard back to his feet, Sowerbutt gently pressed the barrel of his revolver on the Spaniard’s forehead. amazon.co.uk/Colour-Lemon-S

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