"Simon R. Green - Hawk and Fisher 3 - The God Killer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

nursing you through another one of those. A couple of degrees of fever and you
think you're dying."

Hawk stared straight ahead, pretending he hadn't heard that. "Where is this body
we're supposed to look at, anyway?"

"Silver Street. Just down here, on the left. It sounded fairly gruesome. Do you
suppose it'll look like the others?"

"I hope so," said Hawk. "I'd hate to think there was more than one homicidal
maniac running around on our patch."

Fisher nodded glumly. "I hate maniacs. They don't play by the rules. Trying to
figure out their motives is enough to drive you crazy."

Hawk smiled slightly, but the smile didn't last long. If this corpse was as bad as
the others he'd seen, it wasn't going to be a pretty sight. A Guard Constable had
found the first body down by the Devil's Hook, hanging from a lamppost on a
rope made from its own intestines. The second body had been found scattered the
length of Hawthorne Alley. The killer had got inventive with the third victim, on
Lower Eel Street. The hands had been nailed to a wall. The head was found

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floating in a water butt. There was no trace of the body's genitals.

Hawk and Fisher turned into Silver Street, and found a crowd already gathered
despite the early hour. Nothing like a good murder to bring out a crowd. Hawk
wondered briefly what the hell all these people were doing out on the streets at
such an unearthly hour, but he knew better than to ask. They'd only lie. The
Northside never slept. There was always somebody ready to make a deal, and
someone else ready to cheat him.

Hawk and Fisher pushed their way through the crowd. Some of the sightseers
reacted angrily at being jostled out of the way, but quickly fell silent as they
recognized the two Guards. Everyone in the Northside knew Hawk and Fisher.
Hawk paused briefly at the thick line of blue chalk dust the Guard Doctor had laid
down to keep the crowd back, and then he took a deep breath and walked quickly
over it. The silver torc at his wrist, his badge of office, protected him from the
ward's magic, but the blue line always made him nervous. He'd once made the
mistake of crossing the line on a day he'd absent-mindedly left his torc at home,
and the agonizing muscle cramps had lasted the best part of an hour. Which was
why the crowd had pushed right up to the edge of the line but made no move to
cross it. Thus ensuring that the scene of the crime remained intact and the Guard
Doctor had room to work.

A Guard Constable was standing by, at a respectful distance from the body. His
dark red cloak and tunic looked almost garish against the winter snow. He nodded