Blood Substitute by Margaret Duffy Page B

the latter seemingly emanating from the mouth of the underground area. Then the gates to this began slowly to rumble aside, the small wheels which supported them squealing in the metal groove they were slotted into. No one was in sight so I crossed the road again and went inside, my cats’ whiskers yelling at me that this was not a good idea at all.
    The concrete surface of what was in effect a curving tunnel sloped quite steeply downwards. I still saw no one, there was no security point here, in fact it was so gloomy that anyone on duty would be hard-pressed to spot an intruder. There did not seem to be any cameras either and, gazing around looking for the existence of these I noticed that there were light fittings but they were covered in dirt and obviously not functioning. But what about heat sensors? And if there were any would anyone notice another alarm with this racket going on?
    To save carrying it I slipped on Patrick’s jacket and then, realizing that a large dim space was opening out before me, went quickly over to the right-hand wall where it appeared to come to an end and peered around a huge pillar that marked the corner. The siren wailed on.
    The large space thus revealed – as far as this was possible in the lack of light, that is – was indeed a carpark and in the gloom people were moving, running, between the vehicles seemingly to reach their own. I slipped round to the right to conceal myself behind a large people carrier for a few moments, praying that I would not meet the owner head-on coming the other way, and then, bending low, hurried along the row of cars nearest to the wall, came to a corner quite quickly, turned left and, cautiously, headed in the direction of where I guessed the pedestrian entrance into the shop was situated. Some of the cars were in motion now, their headlights on, the already stuffy air thick with exhaust fumes. Luckily, all were facing away from me and over on the far side, near the exit to the lane. Reserved spaces perhaps, for senior staff only.
    Caution forced me to pause in the lee of a parked van. Ahead, I could see a dimly lit opening, a doorway through which one or two people were still emerging. Then a small group appeared, four men. One of them was very thin and at least six foot six inches tall. He stared about, examining his surroundings as though sweeping the area for danger. I shrank back behind the van. Here was someone who expected danger. When I dared to look again the four had gone and, heart pounding, I moved on in case they had spotted me and had split up in order to perform a pincer movement. The worst thing was not being able to hear anyone’s approach. But no one came and shortly afterwards another set of headlights swung out and away in the direction of the exit.
    Rats leaving what they thought to be a sinking ship, or what?

Seven
    â€˜W ell, I have to say I’ve never heard of what one must assume to be senior management doing a runner when a fire alarm goes off,’ Superintendent Reece said. ‘Unless they were rescuing their cars. But their real responsibility lay in first ensuring that the staff and customers were safe, surely.’
    â€˜Who all filed out either through the main doors at the front or from the delivery area at the rear,’ Patrick reported.
    â€˜I understand there was an official complaint to the local nick from the store saying that the alarm had been set off maliciously,’ Reece continued. ‘The culprit had been clearly identified as a man described as severely physically and mentally handicapped who also assaulted a member of staff. The caller wanted him caught immediately and consigned to a suitable care home – only that wasn’t quite how he worded it.’
    Patrick laughed. ‘I didn’t stop at smashing the glass of the first fire alarm I spotted. There was a lumpen security geek just inside the main doors standing by a small desk. Having lured him away from it with a