Free Black List by Will Jordan

car through – but at that moment it looked like a yawning chasm stretching out impossibly far before him. And leaning out, he caught a glimpse of rain-slicked brick walls stretching all the way down to a darkened litter-strewn alleyway far below.
    For a moment, he saw an image of himself lying broken and dying in that dark alleyway, surrounded by rusted bins and trash, his body shattered by the crushing impact.
    ‘Fuck that!’ Alex hissed, backing away from the terrifying drop that awaited him if his leap of faith failed. ‘I’m a sales assistant, not Jason fucking Bourne!’
    ‘Alex, the police will have heard the alarm. They are probably on their way up to the roof as we speak.’ She was talking in the same calm yet commanding voice that had brought him this far, but now she was urging him to go one step further. ‘I know you’re afraid, but if you don’t act now, I can do nothing for you. Now trust me and jump!’
    ‘Shit!’ Shoving the phone in his pocket once more, Alex backed up several paces, his heart pounding and his breath now coming in shallow, rapid gasps.
    Just one jump. One act of courage, one moment of danger, and he would be out of here. His guide, whoever she was, would find him and help him put this right. One day, years from now, he might even be able to look back on this night and laugh about it.
    It was a fantasy and he knew it, but it was all he had at that moment.
    ‘Come on, Alex. Just get it done,’ he said, trying to psyche himself up, searching for some hidden reserve of courage and determination that he could draw on. ‘You can do this.’
    One deep breath, and he started forward, running straight for the edge of the roof. The unforgiving brick walls of the opposite building loomed into view, the darkness, the horrific drop, the alleyway below...
    It was over almost before it started. Skidding to a stop several feet short of the edge, Alex let out a cry of fear and dismay, and shrank away from the gap.
    He couldn’t do it, and in some part of his mind he’d known even before he tried it. Whatever courage or madness was needed to make such a leap, he didn’t possess it. How could he? This wasn’t who he was; this wasn’t who he had ever been. He was a keyboard warrior, more used to employing his mind than his body. The prospect of physical injury or death had defeated him.
    In any case, he was given little time to contemplate his failure. Before he could reach for his phone again, the door to the roof was thrown open and the two police officers spilled out. They weren’t armed, as few police officers in London were, but he did see them carrying riot batons and the distinctive yellow cylinders of pepper spray.
    Caught in the open as he was, Alex was spotted by them immediately.
    ‘Police!’ the older of the two shouted. ‘Get down on the ground now!’
    If Alex had any thoughts of resisting, they were quickly dispelled when the second officer moved around behind and shoved him roughly down onto the gravel-coated roof, applying plenty of pressure to make sure he couldn’t move. Alex groaned in pain as the sharp gravel cut his exposed skin.
    ‘Alex Yates, I’m arresting you on suspicion of conspiring to commit a terrorist act,’ the older of the two officers said as Alex’s hands were yanked roughly behind his back. A chill ran through him as a pair of handcuffs snapped over his wrists. ‘You do not have to say anything at this time, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court.’
    Alex took his advice and said nothing, knowing it was futile to respond. He was well and truly in the shit now. The only question was where it was going to end for him.
*
    On the other side of the Atlantic in Langley, news of the arrest came through less than a minute later, relayed from British intelligence via the US embassy in London.
    ‘They got him,’ Santiago said, relieved that his guesswork seemed to have paid off.