There was an envelope lying ready on the sideboard.Įxcerpted from Knots and Crosses by Ian Rankin.Īll rights reserved. He tied a knot in the string, not any special kind of knot, just a knot. The car, however, had vanished, and he smiled to himself. A car revved up outside, and he went to the window, upsetting a pile of books on the floor as he did so. He used a pair of sharp nail-scissors, the kind girls always seem to use, to snip off a length of about six inches, then he put the ball of string and the scissors back into the drawer. Next time he would tie the gag a little tighter, just a little tighter, just that little bit more secure.Īfterwards, he went to the drawer and took from it a ball of string. Neighbours inquisitive, the police called in to investigate. That might have been the end of everything, almost before it had begun.
Even that, however, was a minor slip on his part.
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