No – wait a minute.
There was a bit of a struggle, then he rolled over onto his back and lay there, grimacing up at the blue sky.
‘Boing!’ Tufty bounced on the mattress, making the bed frame creak. ‘From thetop floor!’
Charles struggled to his knees, then his feet. Blinking and shaking his head – sending bits of tree tumbling out of his stupid haircut.
He’d landed just the other side of a shoulder-high fence that enclosed the back gardens, separating them from the path that ran behind a little shopping area and some small old-fashioned houses.
One hand against the chain link, he staggered off, breaking into a limping run.
‘Bloody hell.’ Logan scrambled off the bed and out of the room. ‘He’s getting away!’
5
Logan barged out of MacGarioch’s bedroom into the lounge, not slowing down. ‘GET THE VAN!’
Steel, MacLauchlan, and Barrett stared as he charged straight through into the hall.
‘NOW!’
Harmsworth was on his way back with the Big Red Door Key – so presumably he’d taken the sodding long way round. He let out a little ‘Eeek!’ and flattened himself against the wall to let Logan hammer past.‘What? Where are we...Eeek!’
Steel’s voice bellowed as she sprinted after him. ‘SECURE THE SCENE!’
The sound of a mini-battering-ram hitting carpet clattered out, followed by a ‘Bumholes...’
And Logan wheeched around the balustrades and onto the stairs. Taking them two at a time. Then leaping whole flights in the rush to the ground floor, closely followed by PD Branston, who seemed to be having the Best Day At Work Ever!
Tufty scrambled along after her, then Steel, Barrett, and PC MacLauchlan – waving Branston’s lead about as if that was going to curtail her enthusiasm. ‘Wait up, wait up!’
Logan swung around the last flight and there were the uniformed PCs, milling about at the bottom, like wet farts.
He barrelled straight past them, making for the front door. ‘You four: out the back! He’s getting away!’
And off they jolly-well buggered.
The door boomed wide, and Logan exploded into the baking sun, slithering to a halt on the parched grass in front of the badly parked police van.
No keys.
Tufty burst from the building’s door, hoofing around to the driver’s side – plipping the locks and clambering inside. ‘Which way?’
Good question.
Logan scrambled into the passenger seat, sweat popping between his shoulder blades, because the whole van was at gas-mark six. But before he could haul the door shut, PD Branston leapt over him and into the middle seat. Sitting there between the two of them, with her gob open, tongue lolling,verypleased with herself.
The engine roared.
‘Sarge?’
Logan clicked his seatbelt on. Pointed left. ‘Step on it!’
The police vanscrunked backwards, off the ‘RESIDENTS PARKING ONLY’ sign and onto the tarmac, turning hard so it was facing down Gort Lane, as Steel, Barrett, and MacLauchlan stumbled out of Block Four.
They hauled open the side door and all three of them piled in.
Steel dove into a seat. ‘Don’t justfudgingsit there: go!’