His beanied friend backed off against a stall divider to make space.

I put out my hand and felt the meat-chopper hanging to the wall. In a flash I was after him.

You'd think that some rat-fink in the company would spill the beans and warn Mr. Wright, but nobody did. There wasn't much company loyalty at Nineveh Publishing.

Every time after that detectives questioned someone how he looked like the answer was medium tall, black jacket, black pants, some uncertain alpinistic accessories, sure he had some kind of alpinistic equipment, not sure what was that exactly.