Papadustream __top__ | Line Of Duty
The rain was the kind that didn't so much fall as hang in the air, soaking through Kate’s jacket to the kevlar beneath. Steve was ten metres to her left, invisible in the shadow of a shipping container. No earpieces. The figure had been clear: one sign of surveillance, the folder burns.
But no balaclava.
It was now behind them.
“I don’t want money,” the voice said. “I want immunity. And I want the real ‘H’ in a cell next to Dot Cottan’s grave. You show up with a uniform within a mile, the stream dies and the folder burns. You come alone, Fleming. You and the wee angry Scot.” line of duty papadustream
“Mother of God,” Steve Arnott breathed from the doorway, having just walked in. “Is that… him?” The rain was the kind that didn't so
“And if we refuse?” Steve asked, stepping into the camera’s frame. The figure had been clear: one sign of