"Henshaw's Descent" - Part 2

                  "Suddenly the door flew open with a resounding crash and the bursting roar of a gunshot split the gloom. The knife sparked, flew from the shopkeeper’s hand and a tall glass cylinder of – something – shattered, disgorging its contents messily onto the floor. Chang held his wrist, his face stretched wide in shock, then, with a babble of Chinese, he rushed to rescue his ruined merchandise. Henshaw stared at the door: standing there, shadowed in the dim outdoor light, was a rangy figure, lean-muscled and wiry, in a singlet vest and suspender-hoisted trousers. A flat cap was mashed down onto his crown, pulled well down over his eyes and hiding his features, apart from a beaky nose and the grim, set mouth beneath it. Henshaw’s initial impression was that he’d been rescued by a drowned vulture with a handgun.

                  With practised nonchalance, the intruder dropped the dripping pistol into his waistband and pointed at Henshaw.

                  'You,” he growled, 'foller me.' He turned, his hobnails tearing at the floorboards, and stamped out into the rain once more. With no other options but bad ones, Henshaw chose to obey..."