Free Ascension Day by John Matthews Page B

her door shut, it was practically too late for him to bother running out. The second, the only other opportunity so far, by the time he’d reached the corner of the L, she’d already started down the stairs the far side. She didn’t glance round in that fleeting second before disappearing from view, and he was no nearer knowing what she looked like.
    When he’d first returned from his mother’s, he hadn’t heard any noises from next door. Just after midnight, she was either still out or already in bed.
    But having still not heard from Stratton, Jac wasn’t ready for bed yet. And, sitting there with the TV on low and not really paying attention to Bloomberg’s financial forecasts and next day’s weather, suddenly he heard movement from next door. Sounded like the bedroom – cupboard doors and drawers being opened and closed. There’d been the sound of another door opening and closing just before – but it hadn’t been the front door. So probably she’d been in the bathroom furthest away from him. Sounds from there barely reached him.
    He moved closer to the wall, ear nestled against it and strained for the minutest sound from next door – a familiar position for many of the past few nights now – and for a moment a picture of her fresh from the bath or shower, hair still wet, hit him. But still he had no face to match to that misty image.
    He stayed there listening longer than he realized, his legs starting to have a few cramp twinges, and for a while the sounds became more muted and indiscernible. Probably she was getting ready for bed.  
    And so when he heard more strident opening and closing of cupboard doors, and then suddenly the front door slamming, he was caught by surprise.
    Shoes off and thrown brusquely aside, he managed to reach his own front door in just two strides. Out and running, breathless. He tried as best he could to suppress it so that she didn’t hear him approaching like some rampant buffalo. Soft and swift strides too, stocking-feet on carpet.
    He could hear the steady pad of her footsteps fifteen yards the other side of the corner, and prayed that it masked his own rapid stride.
    And this time he did reach the corner before she headed down the stairs – just as his cell-phone rang.
    She wheeled around, and he ducked back round the corner equally as sharply and hit the button to put the call into message service.
    He could hear that she wasn’t moving, was still rooted to the same spot, and could almost feel her eyes boring through the bit of corner wall shielding him. He kept perfectly still, struggling to swallow back the weight of his breathing from his brief madcap run. He feared for a moment that she was going to head back towards him. He looked at the number calling: Bob Stratton! He was desperate to get to it before Stratton rang off – but couldn’t risk moving or making any sound.
    She stayed in the same position a moment longer, undecided, though to Jac it felt like a lifetime with his back pressed hard against the wall, breath held, staring helplessly at Stratton’s number on his cell-phone as the vital seconds ticked by. Finally she turned and headed down the stairs.
    He waited for her to get a few paces down before he raced back to his own apartment, and as soon as the door was shut he pressed to take the call.
    ‘Hello, hello! Bob! Are you still there?’
    ‘Yes, I… I was just leaving a message. I didn’t think you were answering.’
    ‘I was tied up for a moment. Sorry.’ Jac fought to regain his breath. ‘But I’m here now. So, tell me. How did it go?’
    ‘I was held up on the Causeway due to an accident – that’s why I haven’t been able to call ’till now. I was late getting there. But no worries – Marmont is still spark out.’ Stratton’s tone dropped. ‘The only thing was that one of Marmont’s prison guard buddies was already there when I arrived. Some guy called Miles Elden.’
    ‘Oh.’ Jac felt a twinge of concern. Elden? The name