29 - A RUN ACROSS THE ROOFTOPS

 

The streets below echoed with sirens. Extolziby ran across the rooftops, jumping the gaps between some of the buildings with ease. He stayed well away from the front so that it would be almost impossible to see him from the ground.

After six rooftops, six buildings, he reached the end of the row. Now he faced a jump across an entire street. Even at top speed, with all his powers, he wouldn’t make it. And in the distance he was sure he could hear the thwump of a helicopter’s rotor blades, dispatched, no doubt, to find him.

He looked around at the roof he was standing on. There was a raised box-like structure with a blue door. He walked over to it. If it was an emergency exit it should have been left open in case there was a fire. He tried the handle. It was locked.

‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ Extolziby said aloud, as he stepped back, concentrated, and kicked the door. With a splintering of wood it flew open. He could add criminal damage to the trespass, theft and grievous bodily harm charges he would face if he was caught. Maybe everyone at home in Tunnock who didn’t trust him because he was a Gruff had been right after all. Perhaps, when it came to a life of crime, he was just a late developer.

Ahead of him was a narrow staircase. It was so steep, like a loft ladder, that he had to go down backwards. If someone was waiting for him at the bottom, he wouldn’t know until it was too late.

He stepped off the last rung and onto dusty wooden floorboards. He swiped a cobweb away from his face and looked around. He was in a long, dingy room full of mouldy old cardboard boxes, stacked from floor to ceiling. He couldn’t see a door. He walked around the room, searching for one. It was only when he was at the far end that he noticed the trapdoor built into the floor.  It wasn’t locked. He wrenched it open. A shorter, steeper ladder led into a corridor. He climbed down, closing the trapdoor behind him as quietly as he could.

A corridor led to a regular staircase ahead of him, and there were doors on each side. A couple were open and a woman appeared out of one. She was dressed in a dark blue skirt and jacket with a white blouse and in her hand was a padded envelope. She stared at Extolziby, and for a moment he was sure she was going to scream or shout. But instead she strode towards him, and thrust the envelope into his hands.

‘You’re late,’ she said. ‘This needs to be at our Euston office by ten so no dilly-dallying. Oh, and tell your boss that if you lot don’t get your act together we’ll be looking for another courier company. It’s not that hard to ride a bike.’

With that, she stalked back through the door. Fair enough, thought Extolziby, heading for the stairs with the envelope. His hood was up and he kept his eyes down as he took the stairs two at a time. At the first landing, he kept going. Two security guards were rushing towards him. They were both overweight and out of breath.

He kept going. As he passed them one grabbed his wrist. ‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’

Extolziby did his best to sound like Frank as he began to speak. ‘’Ere, mate, your boss wants this.’ He waved the envelope in the man’s face. ‘At the Euston office now. You wanna make me late go ahead, my son, but it’s your job that’ll be on the line.’

The security guard dropped his wrist. The second guard, who was a bit older, with grey hair, said, ‘Not that bloody Melinda, was it? She’s a right bleedin’ dragon.’

‘Dunno, mate,’ said Extolziby. ‘I don’t usually collect from ’ere.’

They stepped aside. ‘Sorry, mate.’

Extolziby squeezed past them and kept going. Behind him he could hear them saying something about searching the roof and talking about how Melinda had had a security guard fired last year because he hadn’t held the door open for her.

On the ground floor there was a reception area with another security guard. Extolziby walked towards the glass doors that led out onto the street. He could see flashing lights and hear sirens. Lots of people were standing around.

He came to a halt about ten feet from the security guard. He put on his Cockney accent again. It didn’t sound very convincing to him. ‘’Ere, mate, what’s goin’ on out there?’

The security guard looked up from his newspaper. ‘Dunno. Police are lookin’ for someone is what I heard. They’ve closed the street.’

That didn’t sound good, thought Extol. How could he get away?

He waved what seemed to be a magic envelope at the guard and used what he hoped was the magic name. ‘You’re jokin’, ain’tcha? I gotta deliver this for Melinda on the top floor. Y’know, the right stroppy cow. If I’m late, I’ll get the sack.’

The guard slowly got up from behind his desk. ‘I’ll let you out the back. But just this once, mind.’

Extolziby followed the guard through a door and into a narrow corridor. ‘Stroppy cow’s right,’ the security guard said, opening a door that led into an alleyway.

‘Nice one, mate,’ said Extolziby, as he skipped past him. He could see a police car at the end of the street. He turned left, away from all the excitement, as a policewoman waved back a crowd of people who had been caught up in the search for him.