Luc: A Spy Thriller Read online

I pulled my head back in and faced a pale-looking Lucia. ‘Lucia. I’ll go first. Then I’ll pull you up. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be holding you.’

  She nodded, her eyes wide.

  I looked at my hands. I know climbers use chalk to dry out their hands for better grip, but I don’t know, my hands seemed to have more of a smooth sheen to them because of the chalk. I didn’t really have time to analyse it now. I rubbed my palms on my T-shirt. Placing both hands on the window ledge, I pushed myself up and got one foot onto the ledge.

  I climbed out and stood on the outside window sill, my right palm lightly holding the upper side of the window frame. The sound of the mob was louder now and it seemed their intensity had not lessened. But I had to ignore them. I leaped up and grabbed the wooden overhang, and then swung my right leg up and got my foot onto the tiles. A warm breeze blew against my face and I pushed down on the tiles and with a final propulsion from my right foot, I was finally up on the roof and I turned and lay flat on my back and stared at a blue, almost cloudless sky. It was the typical pitched roof, two sides going up to a point. But thankfully the gradient was not a steep one. I was obviously on the rear side and I swung round on the tiles and lay on my belly and leaned down.

  ‘Lucia,’ I called. ‘Come on out.’

  I leaned down as far as I thought I could go. My left arm was stretched out to the side and dug into the baking hot tiles. I tensed my stomach muscles. They were going to be taking most of the pressure. Lucia’s head appeared out of the window. She turned, looked upwards, her clearly-scared face, staring up at me. ‘Give me your hand,’ I said to her.

  She tentatively reached out and I quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her upwards and she let out a shriek and I half got her onto the roof. I twisted my stomach round and pushed my hand up towards the ridge of the roof so her thighs now gently scraped the tiles. She did the rest, pulling her legs in and crawling up a little with her forearms.

  After Lucia had got her breath back she nodded and said, ‘Was rather rapid.’

  ‘Yes. Best way.’

  I think she tried a nod then.

  ‘Crawl like a cat,’ I said, and showed her by setting off across the tiles. I knew it was the fourth house along.

  I kept low and padded across the coarse, hot tiles. Each house along had a roof that was at a different height. The second house along was slightly lower than the first and the roof was essentially flat. I jumped down onto it and to my left I could now see some of the mob down below. I looked back. Lucia hadn’t moved. She was curled up in a ball on her side where I’d left her. She’d frozen. Understandable.

  I carried on, jogging across the flat concrete of the roof. I don’t think the mob had seen me and I climbed up onto the roof of the third house along. We were back to the pitched roof, and this one was wooden and painted light blue, and I carefully made my way across it until I got to the fourth house along. I had to jump up onto the roof of this one, pitched again, brown tiles, and I edged along until I got to the middle, where smoke was rising.

  I peered down over the guttering and saw that a window was open, grey smoke drifting out. I lowered myself down and climbed inside, knocking a vase or something onto the floor.

  I was in a small kitchen. The smoke was coming from under the door. I took a tea towel from a hook near the sink and ran it under the cold tap. I tied it around my nose and mouth. I found another tea towel in a drawer and soaked that under the tap. I braced myself, and then opened the kitchen door.

  A wall of heat hit me. Thick black smoke poured in. I kept low and moved forward. I could make out thin wooden columns to my right and realised they were bannisters, so I was obviously on a landing. I kept moving. I’d seen the elderly lady from a front room, so I jogged forward, groping in front of me. My hands hit a wooden door and I searched for a handle and got inside and slammed the door behind me. Like the kitchen, there was much less smoke in here. Just a grey mist hanging in the air. A red sofa on my left and a TV in the corner took up a lot of the room. A rectangle of smoky light shone from the window we’d earlier seen the lady from. But I couldn’t see the lady now.

  I called out. No response. She wasn’t in here.

  I took a deep breath and backed out of the room, back into the thickly cloying smoke and heat. I could see the glinting of a metal door handle on my right and I turned it and hurried inside, slamming the door behind me. It was another small room. My heart suddenly sank as I saw, up against the far wall, with one of those colourful mobiles hanging above it, a small wooden cot. I rushed over to it.

  It was empty. Just a blanket.

  And then I saw her.

  Crouched in the corner, hugging the baby.

  When she saw that I’d seen her the elderly lady screamed and held the baby tighter, shielding the infant from me. She obviously thought I was one of the mob. And then I realised I probably looked like it, with the mask I was wearing.

  I pulled the tea towel down, so I could speak, show her my face. I held up both my hands.

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said quite loudly, so she could hear me above the roar and spitting and crackling of the approaching fire. ‘I’m here to help you. I’m going to get you out of here. Both of you.’

  She was sobbing now. She didn’t know what was happening.

  ‘Is there anybody else here?’

  She continued to cry.

  I crouched down in front of her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Is there anybody else in here?’

  She looked up at me. Her wet eyes were alive with fear. Tears streamed down the creviced lines in her brown face. She shook her head. ‘Us two,’ she said. ‘Her parents gone to the wholesalers.’

  I helped her to stand up.

  There was a massive creaking sound from outside in the hall and we both looked towards the door at the same time. We had to move fast.

  I gripped the woman’s shoulders. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Sylvia,’ she said. ‘This is Malena.’

  ‘Sylvia, we have to get up onto the roof. It’s the only way out of here. But listen to me, you will be fine.’

  ‘Why they do this to us?’ she asked.

  ‘Sylvia, we have to go. I’d better take Malena.’

  Her natural instinct bristled at giving her granddaughter to a complete stranger.

  ‘You’ll need both hands,’ I said. She thought about it and nodded, carefully handing the little girl over.

  ‘Be careful with her,’ she said.

  ‘I will.’

  Although, as we hurried to the door, I surmised that I might need both hands as well. But then I saw something hanging on a hook behind the door. One of those harness things. A baby carrier. I almost smiled.

  Then the room shook and there was an almighty crash from out in the hall, which startled all three of us, and I didn’t feel like smiling anymore.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I opened the door and peered out. The gust of air, caused by the crash, was still sending swirls of smoke upwards. There was also something white on the landing I could see that hadn’t been there before. Which was very odd. And then my mind worked it out. It was a fridge. But the fridge hadn’t suddenly appeared out in the hall. It was because I could now see right down into the kitchen below.

  A section of the landing floor had collapsed.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Sylvia asked.

  I closed the door, keeping the smoke at bay for a while and turned to face her. ‘Sylvia, there’s a small hole in the floor out there. It’s going to make it a little more difficult, but I don’t want you to worry, okay?’

  ‘Oh my god.’ She was still holding the baby and her free hand went to her mouth.

  I opened the door and looked out again. ‘Wait here, Sylvia, I won’t be long.’

  The mask had now dried in the heat, but I pulled it back up and crept out into the hall, tentatively feeling the way, the air now a thick black fog. I crouched down when I saw the hole. It was about five or six feet wide.
The heat under my shoes was immense. Breathing was virtually impossible and the smell of burning was strong. Through the hole I could see flames roaring across the surface of the downstairs ceiling and licking at the exposed ends, like thirsty dogs’ tongues. The white fridge, I could now see, was melting like a Dali clock and turning grey and black and disappearing. I stood up.

  ‘I will help you over the gap,’ I said to Sylvia on re-entering the nursery.

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to,’ I said, strapping on the baby carrier, ‘because I’m not leaving you and your baby here to die. Now, we’ve got to be quick about this, okay?’

  She weakly nodded.

  With the baby now strapped in and hanging from my chest, my tea towel lightly covering her head, I opened the door, the spitting and crackling and roar of the flames getting louder again. Malena was crying now, bawling her lungs out. But we had to ignore her. Sylvia wore the second tea towel around her nose and mouth and I took her leathery hand and led her over to the hole in the floor. I kept hold of her hand with my right hand and then stepped out and straddled the gap and brought my left foot down on the opposite side. The cauldron of heat from below was violent and intense and I couldn’t stand there for long. Malena’s cries were shockingly loud. Twisting my torso round I grabbed hold of Sylvia’s waist and without saying anything I lifted her off the floor, swung her round and over the gap and placed her down on the opposite side. I was thankful the floor held.

  ‘Run to the kitchen,’ I shouted. She was conflicted, didn’t know whether to run or stay with Malena. I leaned my weight onto my left foot and pushed off with my right and not a moment too soon Malena and I were on the other side of the hole. I grabbed Sylvia’s hand and ran to the kitchen and slammed the door behind us.

  All three of us were choking and I got rid of Malena’s tea towel and threw the cold tap on and cupped some water in my hands and dropped it over her tiny face. For some reason this seemed to stop her crying, which was a relief, and she looked around, blinking. Sylvia pushed her face under the tap and gasped and drank in the water. When she was finished I threw some water over my face and drank some in.

  ‘We’re getting on the roof now,’ I said to Sylvia. She nodded. ‘I’ll go up first and then I’ll pull you up. You’ll be fine.’ She nodded again. She was numb with fear.

  With Malena hanging securely from my chest, able to look out at everything going on, I climbed out of the window and stood on the sill.

  It was a slightly more difficult manoeuvre for me this time, as I had a live baby hanging from my chest and I didn’t want to squash her. But I reached up, swung my leg up and climbed onto the roof, as Malena bobbed about in the harness. I glanced left and saw across the rooftops that Lucia had moved slightly closer along the first roof, but was curled in a ball again, rigid with fear.

  I lay down on my back this time and gripped a plastic pipe that was sticking up through the roof. I then leaned my right arm down as far as it would go. ‘Sylvia,’ I called out. ‘Can you reach my hand?’ I didn’t hear a reply. But a few seconds later, thin fingers stroked against my palm and then a wrinkled, leathery hand clasped my own. I gripped her as tightly as I could. ‘Hold on,’ I shouted. And lifted her up.

  She screamed initially, and this seemed to set Malena off, who started again to wail, as her tiny face stared up at the brilliant blue sky. Sylvia was a small elderly lady, and so she was as light as a feather, really. It was just the practicalities that were the problem. I lifted my hand up as far as I could, but this only got Sylvia half onto the roof. Her legs still dangled over the side. I couldn’t twist round this time because of the baby.

  ‘Try and grab the pipe with your other hand,’ I called. ‘Sylvia, grab the pipe.’

  Malena was shrieking now. Piercing cries that went right through me. It wasn’t helping Sylvia, who had her eyes shut and was grasping around with her free hand for the pipe.

  She wasn’t heavy, but this wasn’t a position I could hold for ever. I couldn’t turn over, as that would flatten Malena. More crashing sounds came from below. Sylvia shrieked. I thought she almost released her grip.

  ‘Sylvia. Open your eyes. Look for the pipe.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Sylvia.’

  A pixie boot and a hand came into view and Lucia, her eyes staring wide, her face pale, grabbed hold of Sylvia’s free hand and pulled her fully up onto the roof.

  ‘I’ve got you, madam,’ Lucia said.

  I looked up into Lucia’s beautiful face. I couldn’t help but smile. Lucia’s eyes briefly flicked over to me. She couldn’t smile, fear still flooded her body, but as our eyes met, something tangible, something electric, passed between us.

  Lucia then glanced across to her right.

  She gasped. ‘Philip.’

  I swung my neck round and looked behind me. Across the rooftops, four houses along, I could see some sort of movement. Then I saw that it was someone climbing up onto the roof. It was one of the yobs from the mob.

  I got to my feet. ‘Stay down, both of you.’ I left them and sprinted across the tiles, back the way we had come. I got to the house with the wooden painted pitch, just as the yob propelled himself onto the roof of the first house. He stood up and looked round at me. He had long black hair tied into a ponytail and a gold earring in each ear. He wore a russet red T-shirt with faded lettering and long, light grey cargo shorts. He stood out clear from the blue sky behind him. I could tell he was after trouble. I jumped down onto the flat concrete roof of the second house, and only then did I remember I had a baby strapped to my chest. Malena was bouncing about in the harness, gurgling.

  Well it was too late now. I couldn’t get rid of Malena. And I had to stop this yob. And at least Malena had stopped crying. I looked to my right. Some of the mob below could definitely see me now as I strode across the concrete and they let me know I was not a favourite of theirs.

  I jumped up onto the roof of the first house.

  ‘You can go back down,’ I called out.

  ‘You can get out the way, coz we want the Guatemalans.’ Interesting accent.

  ‘Are you even from around here?’ I asked.

  ‘Are you?’

  The yob looked at the baby. Then he started running at me and he was laughing.

  His eyes betrayed him. As he reached me he feinted a right hook and then tried genuinely to smash his left foot into my right knee. I saw it coming, kicked his foot away, smashed my right fist into his face. He staggered back, wiping his mouth.

  He brought something out of his pocket. When I saw and heard the blade snap out I realised it was a flick-knife. He grinned.

  He stepped forward and wildly swung the blade at me, slicing it in front of Malena’s face. Such actions were not endearing me to this gentleman.

  My left arm shielded Malena and I tried a knee stamp myself, Malena bouncing gently up and down as I did, and it worked better for me, as he was still titting around with his knife. My foot connected with his left knee and he cried out, (joining the baby there), and he fell to his side, sinking to his bad knee, giving another cry, before his hands on the tiles took the pressure off. I kicked the blade out of his hand and watched as the knife clattered noisily down the tiles and off the roof.

  The thug spat at my shoes, and then launched himself upwards, grabbing out, it seemed, at Malena. I side-stepped him and brought my knee up and connected with his rising chin and then swiped my leg to the left and brought his feet out from under him and he fell backwards, tumbled noisily down the tiles and off the roof.

  Down below there was the crashing and splintering of fencing or something.

  I guessed he wouldn’t be getting up again.

  If you’re prepared to do things like that to a baby…

  Hands grabbed the roof again to my right. At first I thought it was the thug, risen from the grave (would’ve been quick, admittedly), but when a shiny bald head appeared as he hauled himself up, I
could see it was another thug. He got to his feet on the tiles. He was big. Much bigger than the other thug. He pointed at me and grinned. He ran a hand across his throat. The thug wore a lemon yellow singlet and black cargo shorts. Tattoos covered the lengths of both arms and what was visible of his chest.

  He clumped towards me. Malena coughed.

  I flinched because from behind me came an almighty crashing sound. Something substantial had just collapsed.

  My heart went with it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  My head snapped round to look, but I knew what I was going to see. Where the roof of Sylvia’s shop used to be a huge cloud of dust and smoke rose in its place. The thing had just caved in due to the intense heat of the fire.

  Lucia and Sylvia had been lying on that part of the roof only moments previously.

  Fortunately Lucia or Sylvia, or both, had realised the danger and they had both moved closer, and now crouched together on the blue painted roof. I breathed again.

  Only for a moment though.

  Because now I was choking. Struggling to breathe. Massive, hairy hands were gripping my throat, pressing hard, constricting the air.

  Malena was gurgling. Stretching her tiny arms and legs out in front of her as if she wanted to join in the battle. I could smell the man’s disgusting hands, my vision was going white.

  I smashed my heel down the thug’s shin and into the top part of his foot and I thought I heard something crack. The pressure on my throat immediately loosened. I elbowed his stomach with as much force as I could manage. I stepped back to gain more room for manoeuvre and smashed an uppercut into his chin, using the heel of my hand. Shifting weight, I drove my foot into his chest and he collapsed backwards, the momentum and his massive frame toppling him over the ridge of the roof, and he barrel-rolled down the other side. There was a sudden silence and then a distant thump as he landed back amongst the mob. And then they really weren’t happy.

  I got on the phone to Charlie. She answered after one ring.

  ‘Charlie. There’s three of us and a baby on the roof in Hazel Leaf Street. We have an angry mob down below. No escape route.’ There was no way we could climb down the back of the houses. It was simply not a possibility for Sylvia and maybe even Lucia.