Rose Black’s flat, Fulham
Crowley crept toward the front door, silent on Rose’s carpet. A small wooden rack sat near the wall with a selection of footwear in two neat rows. He lifted a pair of sneakers, handed them over, and made a gentle hurry up gesture. Eyes wide with fear, Rose quickly put them on and tied the laces.
As she worked, Crowley put an ear to the door. Hushed voices outside murmured, but too quietly for him to hear the words. The tone was all intent and tight purpose. More than enough for Crowley to decide he wasn’t being paranoid.
“Is there another way out?” he asked, his voice pitched low.
Rose was already on her feet. She grabbed her bag, slung it bandolier-style across her chest, and pointed to the kitchen. She headed for it and Crowley hurried after her. A small white table stood against one wall, opposite a stove, fridge and sink. Beside the table was a door. Rose reached for the handle just as a loud bang from the front room shattered the tension. Rose yelped in surprise as her front door slammed back against wall.
A man’s voice, harsh and loud, barked out. “Nobody move!”
At the same moment, Crowley yelled, “Run!” and spun back to face the intruders.
He was pleased to hear Rose pull the back door open as he grabbed one of the white wooden chairs from beside the kitchen table.
“Come on!” Rose said, her voice strained with panic.
Crowley judged his timing as well as he could. “I’m coming!” Then he ran at the kitchen door, holding the chair out in front of himself like a lion tamer. His timing was good, meeting the intruder right in the kitchen doorway. The chair legs rammed into the man’s arm, chest and face and Crowley threw his weight behind it, sent the intruder stumbling over backwards with a yelp of pain. The pistol in his hand boomed, but the bullet went high, bit a chunk of plaster from the wall above the cooker. Crowley slammed the kitchen door closed to buy them seconds, then bolted after Rose, slamming the back door behind him too.
Rose was already halfway down the cool gray concrete steps of the rear stairwell. Crowley hammered after her.
“Did he get you?” Rose called back. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. He missed.”
They swung on the banister to make the turn at the next floor at top speed when a bead of light appeared at the kitchen door of the flat below Rose’s. Crowley didn’t even pause. He ran at the wood, pushed it wide as he grabbed Rose by one arm and hauled her back to bring her with him.
A middle-aged man in a pale blue turban stumbled back into his kitchen, face crumpling into outrage.
“Don’t make a sound!” Crowley said, injecting as much pleading into his voice as he could. He closed the man’s door. “Lock that! Stay silent.”
The sound of Rose’s own back door came from above, banging back and echoing in the bare stairway. The turbaned man hurriedly locked his door, but Crowley was already moving, puling Rose along.
“We’re so sorry!” Rose said as she stumbled past the shocked resident.
She shook her arm free, ran close behind Crowley as they crossed the living room and Crowley pulled open the front door. They hurried out, Crowley throwing a last apologetic look back to the turbaned man, who stood with his mouth open in stunned confusion. Crowley quietly closed the man’s front door and Rose pointed to another door at the end of the hallway.
“Front stairs!” she said.
He nodded and followed, pleased she was so self-assured, so focused. She was clearly not the type to panic, immediately seeing his plan in the man’s flat, working with him smartly, pointing out stairs rather than running for the elevator. As they hurried down the stairs, Crowley nervously glanced up, hoping the intruders didn’t have anyone else in the building, waiting out front of Rose’s flat. He’d seen at least one other man inside as he’d attacked with the chair, but there had been three in the alley. Could there be another one up there? Or outside on the street?
They flew down level after level, taking two or three steps at a time, using the bannister for control. Crowley followed Rose, marveled at her pace and athleticism. She looked good, sure-footed at every turn.
“Where do the back stairs come out?” he asked.
“Alleyway, other side of the block. Bins and stuff back there.”
“So if they go all the way down, they’ll have to come right around the building to catch up?”
“Right. There’s a laneway almost directly opposite the front of this building. When we get out, run hard straight for it.” Rose allowed herself a glance back. “You won’t outrun me, so go hard. It’ll take us directly away from them.”
He saw fear in her eyes, but there was a fire of determination too. “You got it.”
They barreled out of the stairway, across the lobby and burst out of the front doors. Crowley braced for a fight, quickly scanning left and right for the possible third attacker, but no one waited for them. A couple walking hand in hand on the footpath jumped aside, startled, as Crowley and Rose pounded across the street between a slowly moving red bus and a white panel van coming the other way. A heavyset, shaven-headed man leaned out of the van window to yell abuse as they sprinted away, zigging left and right to enter the laneway Rose had mentioned.
Crowley glanced back and saw no one in pursuit, then picked up his pace as Rose streaked away from him. She really did have a hell of a turn of speed. He wondered if maybe she was right when she said he wouldn’t be able to outrun her. He’d taken it for rhetoric, but had to smile at the truth of her words.
The lane was mostly dark and they hammered through pools of wan light under small streetlights, then came out onto a much larger, well-lit street. Traffic was a little heavier, but no pedestrians traveled the footpath.
“Ease up,” Crowley called. “I’m pretty sure we’ve lost them.”
Rose slowed to a jog, but kept moving. Crowley respected that and ran along beside her.
“What now?” she asked.
“Well, those guys are clearly determined to get their hands on you.”
She looked over at him, fear stamped on her features. “Those were the same guys from the alley?”
He nodded, put a hand briefly on her shoulder as they jogged. “It was. I’m sorry.”
“So I ask again, what now?”
Crowley thought for a moment. “Well, you can’t risk going anywhere you would normally go. If they found your home they could potentially find anywhere else connected to you. For now, you’d better come back to my place. We’ll settle down and figure out what to do next.”
Rose nodded, then stepped up to the curb and waved at a black cab coming along the street, the light on its roof bright in the night. The cab pulled over and they climbed in, slumped gasping beside each other on the back seat. Crowley gave the driver his address in Deptford and the man gave them a brief salute over the back of his seat and pulled away.
Two burly men stood at the end of the alleyway behind Rose Black’s block of flats and turned left and right, looking up and down the intersecting road. One of the men swore elaborately, slammed his fist into a wooden fence beside him, then shook the hand in pain and frustration.
“I can’t believe they got away again!”
The other man shook his head, pocketed his small revolver. “Damn it, Jeffries, I told you we should have brought more men.”
Jeffries turned on him. “Well, Patterson’s knee is messed up from where that bitch kicked him earlier and there wasn’t time to call in anyone else.”
The two men stood indecisive for a moment, then Jeffries spat and stalked around the building, heading for their car parked half a block away out front. “Walter, we can’t tell Landvik she got away again.”
Walter followed, caught up in a few quick strides. “You’re right there. He was mad enough already, yeah?”
“Cold fury,” Jeffries agreed. “Really quiet and still, like, you know?”
Walter smirked. “Yeah. I know.”
“Who the hell is that guy who keeps saving her?” Jeffries asked through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know, but he’s really starting to make me angry. We need to find out.” Walter pulled a phone from his pocket, dialed a number. After a moment, he said, “Dean? It’s Walter Brown. I’m here with Rob. No, we didn’t get her. That bloody hero got in our way again and they legged it.”
He paused listening. Then, “Well, I’ll tell you exactly why I’m ringing you. I don’t care how much your knee hurts, we have to find out who Rose Black’s man friend is and we have to find out as much about him as we think we know about Rose.”
There was the sound of a raised voice at the other end. Jeffries reached out. “Give me that.” Brown handed it over and Jeffries slammed it to his ear. “You listen to me, Patterson. We need to get both these renegades in hand very quickly or a sore knee will be the least of your problems. Landvik will be wearing very personal parts of our anatomies as jewelry if we don’t deliver them soon. So get dressed. We’re picking you up in ten minutes.”