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Sam breathed deeply, took a last look at the oily swirls of the canal and entered the pub. Once, or rather, one day, Canal street was or would be a crazy, vibrant hub. Today, just one pub.

His twentyfirst century perceptions identified the serial rapist rapidly and he left to alert Gene and help make the arrest.

"You look the part," muttered Gene. "Pink shirt and tight trousers."

"I'll give the shirt to charity," Sam promised.

"Don't you dare," growled Gene. "I want to see you in it tomorrow, and then..."


"Then without it, before tomorrow night is over."