there weren’t any other options. He gripped the top of the window, let himself out and inched along the ledge to the pipe just as his pursuer put his head out of the window. Kovic kicked as hard as he could manage in the tight space and hit the guy’s face, unfortunately not quite hard enough, as he snatched at Kovic’s foot. He lost his balance. As he slipped he grasped at the cables – they would either hold him or snap . . . and that would be that. They held, but sliced into his palm. He grabbed with his other hand, swung his foot again and smacked the weapon out of the guy’s hand. It clattered on to the paving below. But the movement swung him away from the drainpipe, turning it into a giant pendulum. Several people below were shouting up at him now. He used the pendulum’s momentum to swing himself to the window ledge of the neighbouring building, where two teenage boys in aprons were craning their necks out to watch, delighted with the show. A huge bald man loomed up behind them and slapped their heads just as Kovic’s feet arrived on the ledge.
‘Mind if I come in?’ was all he could think of saying as he landedon the floor of their workshop like a beached marlin. The bald man attempted to stop him getting up, threatening him with a long pole. Kovic wrenched it out of his grip.
‘Just let me get to the roof okay and I’ll be out of your hair.’
One of the boys behind motioned at the skylight that the pole was used for opening. All he needed was a leg up. At the same moment there was a crash of glass as a window exploded inwards and his pursuer appeared inches from him. Kovic rammed the pole into his chest and put him on the floor, a specimen pinned for display.
He saw a second skylight, with a stove beneath it. He vaulted on to it, hit the window with his fist and lifted himself through. The fresh air was wondrous after the thick gluey fug of the workshop and the tickling rain refreshingly welcome. He scrabbled across a few rooftops to the end of the row and looked down into the street. There was no sign of Wu. He lifted himself over a parapet and found himself in a rooftop garden, filled with pot plants and green plastic turf covered in fresh dog shit. Suddenly the rooftop thundered with the vibration of something heading towards him – a roaring, growling, squat muscular dog at a ferocious gallop. Kovic fell back and saw the dog abruptly arc into the air as it was wrenched up and back by its chain. He scrambled to his feet and moved wide of the leaping dog which was on its hind legs, its bark strained by the choke chain. Kovic mounted the parapet and worked his way round to where the chain was anchored, the dog following him leaping and snapping at his feet. It got his boot in its mouth and tore it off which distracted it just long enough for Kovic to reach the door next to the chain post. The dog paused, undecided between the whole human and the boot. The bike guy then dropped on to the turf, beyond the reach of the dog, giving Kovic his chance. He jumped down and unclipped the leash. The dog leapt on the biker and they rolled over together until the dog gave out a squealing whimper and fell into a heap as the biker pulled a long bloodied blade from its neck.
Kovic was through the doors now and flying down the stairs, past a roomful of vacuum cleaners, in the middle of which a man and woman stooped over one, as if performing resuscitation.
‘Emergency exit?’
The man nodded at a large aperture in the back of the room with a cargo jib for hoisting stuff up from the street. Kovic looked out. The alley was strung with washing lines, a few damp items that hadn’t been taken in before the rain. Below them, several pig carcasses hung from hooks, a bucket under each to collect the remaining drips. From behind them came the sound of chopping, and to the right was a dumpster from which came a rhythmic hissing, like a miniature steam engine. He could just make out a crouching figure beneath it, his
‘Mind if I come in?’ was all he could think of saying as he landedon the floor of their workshop like a beached marlin. The bald man attempted to stop him getting up, threatening him with a long pole. Kovic wrenched it out of his grip.
‘Just let me get to the roof okay and I’ll be out of your hair.’
One of the boys behind motioned at the skylight that the pole was used for opening. All he needed was a leg up. At the same moment there was a crash of glass as a window exploded inwards and his pursuer appeared inches from him. Kovic rammed the pole into his chest and put him on the floor, a specimen pinned for display.
He saw a second skylight, with a stove beneath it. He vaulted on to it, hit the window with his fist and lifted himself through. The fresh air was wondrous after the thick gluey fug of the workshop and the tickling rain refreshingly welcome. He scrabbled across a few rooftops to the end of the row and looked down into the street. There was no sign of Wu. He lifted himself over a parapet and found himself in a rooftop garden, filled with pot plants and green plastic turf covered in fresh dog shit. Suddenly the rooftop thundered with the vibration of something heading towards him – a roaring, growling, squat muscular dog at a ferocious gallop. Kovic fell back and saw the dog abruptly arc into the air as it was wrenched up and back by its chain. He scrambled to his feet and moved wide of the leaping dog which was on its hind legs, its bark strained by the choke chain. Kovic mounted the parapet and worked his way round to where the chain was anchored, the dog following him leaping and snapping at his feet. It got his boot in its mouth and tore it off which distracted it just long enough for Kovic to reach the door next to the chain post. The dog paused, undecided between the whole human and the boot. The bike guy then dropped on to the turf, beyond the reach of the dog, giving Kovic his chance. He jumped down and unclipped the leash. The dog leapt on the biker and they rolled over together until the dog gave out a squealing whimper and fell into a heap as the biker pulled a long bloodied blade from its neck.
Kovic was through the doors now and flying down the stairs, past a roomful of vacuum cleaners, in the middle of which a man and woman stooped over one, as if performing resuscitation.
‘Emergency exit?’
The man nodded at a large aperture in the back of the room with a cargo jib for hoisting stuff up from the street. Kovic looked out. The alley was strung with washing lines, a few damp items that hadn’t been taken in before the rain. Below them, several pig carcasses hung from hooks, a bucket under each to collect the remaining drips. From behind them came the sound of chopping, and to the right was a dumpster from which came a rhythmic hissing, like a miniature steam engine. He could just make out a crouching figure beneath it, his
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