Chapter 16
Hartnell, lost in the lunchtime crowds, ventured at last to look round. There was no sign of a policeman, nobody who looked as if they might be coming after him. He breathed with relief, told himself that he was far from clear yet and hurried on.
The first place to make for was Gracie's. He wondered how long he would have before his escape was discovered. It was possible, of course, that it might be several hours before they went down to take him out for the journey to the prison.
Farther on he came across a taxi rank, felt in his pocket, found they'd left his wallet and got in the vehicle at the head of the line.
He gave an address near Gracie's place. He might as well take a few minor precautions instead of leading any pursuers straight to the spot.
The taxi began to work its way through the heavy London traffic. Hartnell fidgeted as he stared from the windows, and twisted round from time to time to look back along the way they'd come.
He was clear by now. They wouldn't know for at least some time which way he'd come. The only trouble was the immediate description of himself which would be circulated. That would make every policeman an enemy. He shrank down in the back of the taxi. The only pleasant thought in his mind was that of seeing Gracie.
While they purred through the streets and he fumed at every set of traffic lights against them, he decided he'd better be careful in his approach to her flat. Some of the gang might be there. There was no telling where they'd all ended up in their flight from the police. He remembered the little skylight that looked down into her kitchen. He thought there was a fire escape at the back of the building. If he could get onto the roof, and if the skylight was open as it usually was ... It was worth a try. It would be ridiculous to walk open-eyed into the gang's clutches.
Earl's Court was much quieter than many parts of London, particularly now that the lunchtime rush was subsiding.
He got out of the taxi and began to walk. He didn't see the taxi behind him which turned sharply into another street, and stopped.
He saw Gracie's block and felt a nervous excitement inside him as he picked out her window. He hoped with all his heart that she was there and that she was safe.
He walked round to the back of the building. There was a long, well-laid-out garden stretching its length - and there was the fire escape zigzagging up to the roof. He wished it wasn't the middle of the afternoon.
He glanced up and down the street and then slipped into the garden. He looked at the windows alongside the fire escape. Some of them he would have to pass. But it was a chance he had to take. There was nobody in the street, which was partially cut off from him by a screen of hedge and small trees. He hesitated. But he had no time to lose. Even now they might have discovered his absence.
Quickly, walking as if he had every right to be there, but with his chest a jangle of nerves, he crossed to the foot of the iron fire escape and began to mount.
He glanced into the first window he passed. It was a kitchen - and empty. That was good. Kitchens were not likely to be occupied in the middle of the afternoon.
He climbed up the back of the building, glancing down once to the street below. One or two people were passing but they did not look up.
At one of the windows he passed a woman who was pressing some clothes, but she had her back towards him and he crept past without being seen, congratulating himself on his luck.
He reached the roof and swung himself onto it. It sloped considerably for a few feet and he had some difficulty in clambering onto the flatter portion. Once there, however, he was hidden by a maze of chimneys, radio and television masts.
He tried to walk as softly as he could, but his feet thudded on the tiles and once he almost slipped as he reached the skylight. His hands were trembling slightly - Gracie was, perhaps, so near.
The skylight was closed. He cursed his luck. He could see nobody in the kitchen. He tried to raise up the frame but could make no impression. It was fastened from the inside.
He was still wondering what way to tackle the problem when there was a movement below. Somebody had entered the kitchen and was looking up. He peered through the dusty glass. Then he flung himself away from the skylight.
A gun had been raised towards the window above. Behind it he had recognized the snarling face of Francie, As he ducked, the glass shattered and splinters flew in all directions. There had been almost no report from the silenced pistol.
Superintendent Wilson was listening at the radio of the patrol car. Jones was calling on his pocket radio from a street in Earl's Court.
He told the driver to head in that direction as he listened to the message.
Hartnell was on the roof of a house, Jones was telling him, probably trying to break in through a skylight. He couldn't see him because the chimneys were acting as a screen, but he thought he'd heard the smash of broken glass.
Turner was around the front of the block, keeping watch, he reported.
"Right. Stay there, Jones, and keep up the track if he leaves. It may not be what we're looking for. So just hang on."
The superintendent sent out another message calling three more patrol cars. Ordering them to close in on the area.