Haden then started walking round his room, dragging heavily on the cigarette, as if he was debating something inwardly.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a bank clerk”.
Haden shrugged. “Sounds good. What hours do you work?”
John Clarke frowned, as if it was an obvious question. “Start at nine, finish at five”
“Sounds good. What do you do after you finish work?”
John Clarke shrugged, as if it that also were a strange question. “Why, whatever I want to do”.
“You mean once you leave work, you can do as you like?”
“Yes”
“Anybody gunning for you?”
“No”.
“Have to check your car every morning to see it hasn’t been booby-trapped?”
“No!”
“Ever been cracked over the head with a pistol butt?”
“No”.
“Ever had to jump from a first floor window to save your life and landed on concrete, or in thorn-b
