RAW GARLIC
The map of Belfast spread across the table top like a corpse to be dissected.
Hamish and Levin brooded over it. The room, though not dark, was gloomy. Levin frowned and rubbed his chin, arms folded.
Hamish was amused, but serious.
Levin took a pin and stabbed it into a small square shaded blue in the F6 quadrant.
‘We’d have to take that one down.’
Hamish nodded. He moved a finger down the piece of paper, following a road.
‘Here’s where –’
‘Yep. I think so.’
Levin traced it with a blue marker.
‘That would take care of that section.’
‘Aye.’
They studied the map in silence for a minute or two.
‘There’s that one there, too.’
‘Aye. I saw that. We could try moving between the two –’
‘It would take a while.’
‘Not if there were two of us.’
‘Which there is.’
‘Yes.’
Hamish took the marker and drew another long, blue line.
‘That’ll do for the evening?’
‘Yes.’
They hung the map on the wall of Hamish’ room.