He slid out of sight behind the tank.
There was a ladder at the back, fixed to the wall.
‘Is that you, Sir Nikolas? Have you led me right to the little fucker?’
Aleksey pressed his back to the tank, the sword gripped firmly. He would have one chance. But he could not overcome the disadvantage of this weapon—however sharp and lethal it might be, it had no reach.
Then he had idea.
He did not need reach if he had the element of surprise on his side.
Simon appeared to have no difficulty navigating the roof. He came on confidently, silhouetted against the ridgeline. He had the gun in both hands, held down ready, muscles relaxed.
He glanced up at the tank, appeared to realise he would be vulnerable on the ladder, so turned abruptly and began to approach from the other side, doing a walk around to secure the area.
Aleksey lay silent and invisible in the darkness on the platform of the fire escape.
When he’d done a full circuit, apparently sanguine that he was not about to be ambushed, Raiden began to climb the ladder.
Aleksey exploded up from his concealment.
He only realised his huge error as he leapt from the platform to the roof. He entirely lost his momentum as the metal steps gave way beneath his weight, absorbing any power his thrust would have had. He made it to the roof, but Simon was turned at the top of the ladder, leaning into it for balance, and the gun was held in both hands unwaveringly aimed at him. He could not miss at that range.
He smirked. ‘I finally worked it out too.’
Aleksey held his arms slowly out to his side. ‘Please. Don’t kill him.’
Raiden’s head jerked back in astonishment, and then he began to laugh. ‘You don’t understand anything. You’re more fun than I anticipated you’d be! Fucking hell! Did you think I’m here to kill him?’ He shook his head fondly. ‘Ah, well, you can go to hell wondering what it was all about.’ He raised the gun.
Something appeared behind him.
Simon seemed to sense it more than hear it.
He spun his head around, instinctively ducking a little.
Aleksey raised the sword, dived for the ladder, but before he could swing, a broom smacked Simon in the face. Then did it again. He lost his precarious grip. The broom thrust at him a final time, a sturdy shove against his chest, and as a small voice said, ‘Bad man,’ Simon fell. He hit the roof, rolled off, caught at the gantry of the fire escape, but as he did, it completely pulled away from the wall, its bolts sheering off, popping one by one. He was left dangling on a broken piece by his free hand, unable to pull himself up or drop the two storeys to the ground.
‘Fuck.’ This was said with an almost cheerful amusement. He didn’t seem at all bothered to be dangling by one hand. He just raised the gun in his other.
Aleksey dropped, flattening himself onto roof. Simon fired. He missed, but the recoil made his gripping hand slip. His eyes widened. Aleksey saw the realisation come over him that he was concentrating on the wrong thing. He shoved the gun into his waistband and now with two hands gripping began to swing his legs, trying to get them onto the platform to pull himself up.
He was entirely unable to do it, but the movement caused a few more bolts to sheer off, and slowly, almost gracefully, the entire metal walkway began to peel away, twist and tumble.
Simon landed on the ground as if he’d been given a ride on a gentle fairground attraction. He seemed a little astonished himself at the reprieve. Then he glanced up at Aleksey on the roof, now standing and watching the spectacle of the fall. He pulled out the gun, raised it, but didn’t waste a shot. It was a threat and a promise. He began to walk back towards the entrance of the asylum.
Aleksey shot up the ladder and peered in through the hatch. He didn’t have time to take in the homely nest Billy had created for himself inside the tank, but only said urgently, ‘We have to go. Now. He’s coming back. Hurry.’
Billy appeared to be packing up a few things anyway, as if he’d realised for himself that his hiding place was no longer secure. Aleksey reckoned if they could make it inside, they could stay undetected in the dark interior. He suspected Billy knew his way around better than either of them did.
But once he had climbed down, Billy started to move away from the entrance to the stairs. Aleksey took his arm. ‘He’s coming back, and he has a gun, Billy. We need to hide somewhere inside.’
Billy gave him a scathing look and muttered, ‘You’re just being silly,’ and pointed to something at the other end of the roof: another fire escape.
This one was no more secure than the first in Aleksey’s opinion, and he weighed a great deal more than Billy did, but nevertheless, he grinned, ruffled Billy’s hair and followed him. Billy did indeed know this place better than either of them did, and he was apparently used to coming and going as he pleased.
Aleksey put a first foot tentatively on the top platform and felt the give beneath his boot. He swallowed. He didn’t suffer from vertigo, so wondered why it kept crossing his mind that he did. The platform swayed. Billy clasped his little bundle of precious items to his chest and without even holding on began to descend the steep stairs, which were more like ladders to Aleksey’s mind. He had no choice but to follow.
They got to the ground and Billy started to go towards the harbour. Aleksey caught his arm once more. ‘You boat is wrecked. I’m sorry.’
