"James Herbert - Rats 01 - The Rats" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert James)

once heard her shouting at someone, but never discovered who.
People had begun to wonder about her. Some heard wailing coming from the house one night. Laughter
another.
Finally, complete silence for over a month.
It was only when the grocer found his previous weekтАЩs delivery still on the doorstep that he reluctantly
reported the matter to the police. Reluctantly, because he feared the worst and hated to see a nice little,
regular order come to an end.
Anyway, it turned out she wasnтАЩt dead. A policeman was sent to investigate and then an ambulance
arrived and took her away. She wasnтАЩt dead, just a lunatic. As far as the grocer was concerned she
might just as well have passed on because that was the end of his little number. It had been too good to
last.
So the house was empty. Nobody came, nobody went,nobody really bothered. In a year it was barely
visible from the road. The undergrowth was tall, the bushes thick and the trees hid the upper storey.
Eventually, people were hardly aware it existed.




Chapter One
Henry Guilfoyle was slowly drinking himself to death. HeтАЩd started six years ago, at the age of forty.
HeтАЩd been a successful salesman for aMidlandpaper company and was ready to become area manager.
The trouble was,heтАЩd fallen in love late in life. And unfortunately, heтАЩd fallen for one of his junior
salesmen. HeтАЩd trained young Francis for five weeks, taking him on his business journeys up and down
the country. At first he wasnтАЩt sure if the boy had the same inclinations as himself but as he grew to know
him, the shyness, and the quiet loneliness of his prot├йg├й seemed slowly to dissolve that incredible gap
heтАЩd always felt with other men.
Why Francis had decided to become a salesman heтАЩd never discovered. He wasnтАЩt the type. Guilfoyle
could hold his own in the company of any group of men. He could be the typical bluff salesman; the dirty
jokes, the sly wink, the back slapping, the professionalism of his trade hiding any imperfections in his
maleness. He was a good actor.
Francis was different. It seemed the shadow of his homosexuality dampened his natural spirits, guilt
tainting his moods. But he wanted to prove himself, to be accepted, and he had chosen a career that
would make him forget his own personality by reflecting that of others.
The third week theyтАЩd stayed in a small hotel inBradford.
Only double rooms were available, so they shared one with single beds. TheyтАЩd been drinking most of
the afternoon with a client, after lunch, taking him to the usual local strip club.
Guilfoyle had watched Francis in the darkened basement called a club because it had a bar and a
membership fee.
The boy had watched the girls all right, but not with the exaggerated look of lust shown on the face of
their client - and on himself, of course. And when the final sequinned garment of the girl had been thrown
aside, he slapped the boyтАЩs thigh, under the table with skilful heartiness, letting his hand linger, just for a
moment, but long enough for their eyes to meet. And then he knew - oh, that glorious moment when he
really knew.
There had been signs after the first week of course. Little tests Guilfoyle had set. Nothing daring, nothing
that could cause even slight embarrassment if rebuffed. But heтАЩd been right. He knew. HeтАЩd seen the
smile in the boyтАЩs eyes, no surprise, not even apprehension, and certainly not alarm.
The rest of the afternoon passed with a dreamlike quality.
His heart beat wildly every time he looked at the boy,But still he acted superbly. Hisvulgar, and ugly -
most definitely ugly - client never suspected. They were men, in a manтАЩs world, leering at big breasted,
deformed women. The boy was a bit green of course, but theyтАЩd shown him how real men acted when