Mason realised something was wrong

Mason realised something was wrong as soon as he came into the house. Call it instinct, a hunch,
whatever you like, but he had been around long enough to sense that element of the unknown and
danger which added up to trouble. He didn’t expect to come across this in his own place – his home
had always seemed a refuge from work – but here it was and he had to be on his guard. Shaking off
the tiredness that came at the end of a long day, he forced himself to be extra alert and face whatever
was coming.
The living room seemed normal, exactly as he left it – a mess – and he was just crossing to the bedroom
when he saw it in the corner of his eagle eye. A letter, white and neatly folded. The letter was lying on the
table in the corner. It was a wonder he saw it amongst all the other stuff there. Mason knew better than
to touch the letter and destroy what fingerprints might be on it so he gingerly prised it open with a pencil.
The message was stark and simple: ‘Don’t bother looking for her’.
Quickly but thoroughly Mason searched the rest of the house. Of course, she wouldn’t be there but his
trained mind knew that the first hours after a crime were absolutely vital and couldn’t be wasted. There
were no tell-tale signs of a struggle, nothing to suggest anything unusual and in fact the house seemed
chillingly normal, as if his wife had just stepped out for another pint of milk. Her things were untouched,
nothing had been taken, not even the rather valuable pearls in the jewellery box right on top of the
dressing table.
Mason sat down for a moment, his mind a whirl. His wife had gone and all he had was a five-word
message to go on. It wasn’t much. The first question was who could have done it and then what the
motive could be. In his line of work there was a long line of rogues who might be interested in hurting
him. He remembered Neil Hunter, who he had put in prison for five years for stealing artwork from a
gallery; Janet Kersey, who had just come out of an asylum after poisoning her neighbour with a cupcake;
Trevor Timms, who he had imprisoned for setting on fire a bakery. There were others too, all with a
personal grudge against him and equally likely to want to settle scores.
His mind went back to the letter. The handwriting was very careful and deliberate, as if someone was
trying to disguise it. The paper itself was taken, not torn, from a proper notepad, the kind you can buy at
any stationer’s. Clearly, the note had not been written in a hurry and whoever had done it had had plenty
of time. It could have been done on the spot, it could have been done elsewhere. The strange thing was
why they had left the note in the first place, why not just let him find out his wife was missing himself?
Possibly it was to taunt him, turn the screw as it were, which increased the likelihood that this was a
crime with a very personal motivation.
It was time to get some help and Mason was reaching for the mobile in his back pocket when it rang
of its own accord. ‘Number unknown’ read the display so the hair on the back of his neck bristled as he
accepted the call. They knew he had found the note. Mason kept silent, heart pounding, waiting for the
caller to speak first and reveal as much as possible. The silence was agony but then the voice came. It
was his wife. ‘Tony, it’s me. I’m not hurt. They say that if you do everything they want, I can come back.’
She spoke clearly and calmly, as if reading from a prepared script. Again, Mason kept silent but this time
it was much more of a struggle. A pause and then another, rougher, voice came on the line. ‘We’ll be in
touch.’ The phone went dead.

Результаты (русский) 1:

Мейсон понял, что-то был неправ, как только он вошел в дом. Называют его инстинкт, предчувствие,все, что вам нравится, но он было вокруг достаточно долго ощущать этот элемент неизвестности иопасность, которая добавляется неприятности. Он не ожидал встретить это в его собственном месте – его домавсегда казалось убежищем от работы – но здесь он был, и он должен был быть на его страже. Стряхнуть с себяусталость, которые пришли в конце долгого дня, он заставил себя быть дополнительных предупреждений и лицо независимо отшел.В гостиной, казалось, нормальный, точно так, как он оставил его – беспорядок – и он просто пересечение в спальнюкогда он увидел его в углу глаза орла. Письмо, белый и аккуратно сложить. Письмо лежал наТаблица в углу. Это было чудо, что он видел его среди всех других вещи там. Мейсон знал лучше, чемкоснуться письма и уничтожить, что отпечатки пальцев могут быть на него так что он робко залегают его открыть с карандашом.Сообщение было резко и простой: «Не беспокойтесь, глядя на нее».Быстро, но тщательно Мейсон Поиск остальной части дома. Конечно она не будет там, но еготренированный ум знал, что первые часы после преступления были абсолютно необходимым и не мог быть потрачены впустую. Тамбыли без сигнальное признаки борьбы, нечего предложить что-нибудь необычное и в самом деле, казалось, домжуткий нормально, как если бы его жена только что вышел из за другой пинта молока. Вещи были нетронутыми,nothing had been taken, not even the rather valuable pearls in the jewellery box right on top of thedressing table.Mason sat down for a moment, his mind a whirl. His wife had gone and all he had was a five-wordmessage to go on. It wasn’t much. The first question was who could have done it and then what themotive could be. In his line of work there was a long line of rogues who might be interested in hurtinghim. He remembered Neil Hunter, who he had put in prison for five years for stealing artwork from agallery; Janet Kersey, who had just come out of an asylum after poisoning her neighbour with a cupcake;Trevor Timms, who he had imprisoned for setting on fire a bakery. There were others too, all with apersonal grudge against him and equally likely to want to settle scores.His mind went back to the letter. The handwriting was very careful and deliberate, as if someone wastrying to disguise it. The paper itself was taken, not torn, from a proper notepad, the kind you can buy atany stationer’s. Clearly, the note had not been written in a hurry and whoever had done it had had plentyof time. It could have been done on the spot, it could have been done elsewhere. The strange thing waswhy they had left the note in the first place, why not just let him find out his wife was missing himself?Possibly it was to taunt him, turn the screw as it were, which increased the likelihood that this was acrime with a very personal motivation.It was time to get some help and Mason was reaching for the mobile in his back pocket when it rangof its own accord. ‘Number unknown’ read the display so the hair on the back of his neck bristled as heaccepted the call. They knew he had found the note. Mason kept silent, heart pounding, waiting for thecaller to speak first and reveal as much as possible. The silence was agony but then the voice came. Itwas his wife. ‘Tony, it’s me. I’m not hurt. They say that if you do everything they want, I can come back.’She spoke clearly and calmly, as if reading from a prepared script. Again, Mason kept silent but this timeit was much more of a struggle. A pause and then another, rougher, voice came on the line. ‘We’ll be intouch.’ The phone went dead.