Free Grimsdon by Deborah Abela

questions.’ Isabella gripped the rope and began climbing.
    The motorboat tore into the alley. The man in front lifted his gun and aimed it directly at Isabella. The bullet struck the wall, covering her in a spray of stone.
    The gunman reloaded.
    â€˜Hurry!’ Xavier cried. Isabella scrambled up the rope.
    When she reached the balcony, Xavier hoisted her over as a second shot cut through the air, shattering a window beside them.
    â€˜Lucky this guy’s such a bad shot.’ Xavier retracted the rope and placed the spear gun in the holster. Below, the gunman unhooked a ladder from the side of the boat. Inside, Isabella spotted ropes, handcuffs and large cloth bags.
    She wrenched open the balcony door. ‘Let’s go.’
    Once inside, she momentarily stopped. On either side of them were rows of shelves piled with books, reaching almost to the roof. ‘The State Library,’ she whispered. ‘I know this place by heart. Follow me.’
    Isabella and Xavier ran, their footsteps echoing off the marble floor. Behind them, the balcony door slammed.
    Their pursuer’s great stomping footfalls came closer. He stared at the many rows, unsure which one to take, when he heard a pained cry.
    A crooked grin filled his face. He adjusted the rope slung around his shoulder and ran toward the sound. Xavier lay on the floor, clutching a twisted ankle. ‘Don’t shoot, mister. Please don’t shoot.’
    Xavier tried to stand but collapsed to the floor again. The man’s smile grew even wider as he raised his gun. He was about to squeeze the trigger when a small sound from above caught his attention.
    He looked up in time to see Isabella leap from the top of a shelf to a heavy chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She sliced her knife through the cord. Both she and the light fitting plummeted, knocking him out and pinning him to the ground.
    Xavier jumped to his two perfectly healthy feet and slipped the man’s gun into his belt. ‘You’re good with that knife.’
    Isabella jumped to her feet. ‘And you almost had me believing you’d sprained your ankle.’
    â€˜I was in the drama club at school. Shall we take out the garbage?’
    â€˜Definitely.’
    They lifted the remains of the chandelier and tossed it aside. Isabella unhooked a set of handcuffs from the man’s belt and cuffed his hands behind him. Xavier took the rope and tied his ankles when something fell out of his pocket.
    â€˜Tranquilliser darts.’ Xavier kneeled down to pick them up. ‘So he didn’t want to kill us, just knock us out.’
    Isabella searched his other pockets. In a wallet she found an identity card. Beneath a photo and a gold security chip it read:
    Jonathan M. Steal
    Government Agent 3149
    National Resettlement Program
    Access Code: Red
    â€˜Resettle us where?’
    â€˜Away from here.’ Xavier bent down and grabbed him under the arms. ‘Let’s do some of our own resettling.’
    They dragged him through the aisles back to the window.
    â€˜Hey!’ Isabella called to the man in the boat below. ‘Missing this?’
    They pushed the unconscious man over the edge and he disappeared in a splash. The second man waited for the agent to resurface before grabbing him by the scruff of his sodden clothes and lifting him into the boat.
    Xavier aimed the gun. ‘Now I suggest you leave.’
    They watched closely as the man started the engine, sped to the end of the alley and disappeared around the bend.
    â€˜Well done, partner.’ Xavier tucked the tranquilliser gun into his belt.
    â€˜Do you think Sneddon sent them?’
    â€˜I doubt it.’ Xavier saw her hands were shaking.
    â€˜Do you want to go home?’
    â€˜No. We’ve come all this way to scavenge, and that’s what we’re going to do.’
    Isabella turned back inside and walked between the shelves, past books on vampires, fairies and faraway worlds of