Sowerbutt's Finger

A chubby pink finger in a Horse Guards office trembled on its way down the list followed by a spectacular explosion. The well-furnished suite was more familiar with conversations about matters of state and the acquisition of KCBs than shrieks of anger over East End road accidents. 
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Sowerbutt's Enemy

Hawk-Face swept the bowler off his mop of bottle-yellow hair, held it out in silent salute and bowed low as the gravediggers began shovelling the heavy soil into the grave. 
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Sowerbutt's Girls

The boy blushed bright red when a blonde among a nearby group of attractive girls wearing colourful shawls, daring necklines and flouncy skirts winked at him, smiled and raised her eyebrows.

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Sowerbutt's Dog

Hackles rising and teeth bared, the dog watched as the latecomers made their way across the old cemetery in London’s bombed-out East End.
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Sowerbutt's Enemy

Madame Komarovski.smiled: “You ask me because Vershinin has crossed your path? It cannot be Augustine as a drunken Lett guard stabbed him to death, I’m pleased to say. Eugenie would be with the NKVD which succeeded Dzerzhinsky’s Cheka. A double-dealing inadequate, always after himself. Is he here?”

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Sowerbutt's Sparklers

“Business, Nero,” Bozo said. “I’ve got two pounds of uncut sparklers. The lads have got scales if you want to check the weight.”  He nodded at two big men by the bar. “You’ve brought protection with you, Bozo? I thought we were friends,” Nero said. “Like your friends outside in the Ford,” the man beamed.

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Sowerbutt's Notes

Enjoying more of his pie, Nero glanced at the Gladstone bag, wedged between his feet. It was full of bundles of five-pound notes that Sowerbutt had collected from one of the Family’s hiding places.

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