04
Hak walked out of the office for the last time without saying goodbye to Sylvia, and curved into the high street towards home. After five minutes walking, she had the distinct feeling she was being tailed. She had had the feeling many times before and was rarely wrong.
She paused at a bookshop window feigning interest in discount paperbacks whilst glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of her follower. The street was sporadically spread with mid-afternoon shoppers moving awkwardly like newborn penguins on the icy pavements. A gritter truck crawled on the road showering the streets with safe sand and orange light.
No one seemed interested in her. She pushed her hands in her leather jacket pockets and pushed on. She was relieved to get home, opening the heavy entrance door of her block of flats with eye over her shoulder. The neon strip light in her communal hallway buzzed like a damaged insect and spewed a sickly blue light up the trench grey walls of the stairwell that lead to her front door, number 4.
She heard the landline ring from outside, so ran into her under-heated flat thumping her shin in the dark as she dashed to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”
There was no reply.
“Who is this?”
The line cut dead.
“What the hell is going on?”
She rubbed her throbbing leg, trying to suppress the stinging pain. Then someone entered the flat. The creaking floorboards and clumsy footsteps of the trespasser in the corridor gave them away like a blush in a eunuch village.
She scuttled across the floor on her hands and knees, peering through a crack of doorway into the dark corridor, in an attempt to see whoever was on the other side as they ransacked her rooms. She did not want to make any rash moves; she had no desire to be stupid or dead.
However, what happened next happened too quickly to prevent. The door was pushed open hard, hitting her head with such velocity that she was shunted across the room.
“Oh bugger!” A barefooted man in a puce-pink dinner suit ran to her aid, sweeping hand full’s of wild black hair from his eyes. By the time he got to her, she was unconscious.
“Oh Harry,” an elderly lady joined him. “What have I told you about first impressions?”
“Aunty,” protested the eccentric, “this clearly was not my fault. She was hiding behind the door! What are we going to do? I only know the Heimlich manoeuvre!”
“I told you to be careful!” Said the lady sternly. “Now, chop-chop and pick her up, the least we can do is get the most important part of the plan right!”
He stood his ground. “You said nothing about taking her. You can’t just take someone!”
“I said nothing about not taking her. You know I have back troubles, chop-chop!”
“This is not right.” Harry protested. “You said you just wanted to ask her questions. We have to wake her up.”
“In the current climate anything could happen to her. She is a damsel in distress Harry, be a hero and grab her there’s a good boy.”
He shuffled his feet. “There is bad Karma here.”
“Nonsense. Think of the bigger picture, there’s a good boy! Chop-chop, we have not got all day!”
“Yes Aunty.” He submitted, knowing there was never any point in arguing with this woman. He picked Hak up with ease, swinging her body over his broad athletic shoulder. “Sorry Aunty.” He said, following her out of the apartment.
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