The Innocent (Will Robie 1)

“Sure. But if you say you’re over twenty I probably won’t believe you.”

“Fourteen.”

“Okay.”

He looked the way they had come. Something in his gut very clearly told him not to go back that way.

“What did you see that made you think there’s someone there?” she asked.

“Reflection, just like yours in the bus window.”

“It could be anybody.”

“Reflection of light off a rifle scope. It’s a pretty unique signature.”

“Oh.”

Robie studied the walls on either side of them. Then he looked up.

“You afraid of heights?”

“No,” she said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. He hustled to a construction Dumpster parked in the alley and searched through it. He finally pulled out several lengths of rope and quickly knotted them together. There was a lenth of plywood in the Dumpster too. He positioned it so that it rested on top of the Dumpster’s rim, giving them a platform on which to stand.

“Strap your backpack down tight around you.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She yanked the straps tight and looked at him expectantly.

“What are we doing?”

“Climbing.”

Robie lifted her up and placed her on top of the plywood and hoisted himself on top of it.

“What now?”

“Like I said, we climb.”

She stared up the brick face of the building.

“Can you really do this?”

“We’ll find out.” He motioned to her. “Come on. You need to stand on my shoulders.” He pointed up. “We’re aiming for that.”

It was a fire escape ladder that in its up and locked position ended well above street level.

“I don’t think I can reach it.”

“We can try. Keep your legs rigid.”

He lifted her up and onto his shoulders and then, grabbing her ankles, military-pressed her higher. Even with her arms stretched out fully she was still about a foot short of the goal. He set her back down.

Robie took the rope he’d gotten from the Dumpster and tossed it up and over the bottom rung of the ladder. He took one end, fashioned a knotted loop, and pulled the other end through it. He gripped the rope and quickly climbed up to the ladder, then freed the rope and passed one end back down to her.

“I’m not great at rope climbing. I flunked PE,” she said doubtfully.

“You don’t have to be. Tie the rope around your backpack straps. Make sure the knot is tight.”

She did this.

Robie added, “Now cross your arms and hold them tight against your body. That’ll keep the backpack from slipping.”

She did so and he started pulling her up.

As soon as she reached him, Robie knew they were in trouble. Running feet were never a good sound.

“Climb, now,” he said, the urgency clear in his voice. “As high as you can.”

She struggled up the fire escape ladder while Robie turned back and focused on what was coming

CHAPTER

18

THE MAN TURNED into the alleyway, stopped, cleared the lane by sight, and moved forward. Ten yards in he stopped again, looked left, right, and then ahead. He kept moving, his rifle swinging in precise, controlled arcs. He did this two more times. He was good, but not good enough, because he hadn’t yet looked up.

When he finally did it was just in time to see the bottom of Robie’s feet rushing at him.

Robie’s size twelves smashed into the man’s face and drove the rest of the attached body violently to the asphalt. Robie landed on top of the man, rolled, and came up in an attack posture. He kicked the rifle away and looked down. He didn’t know if the man was dead. But he was certainly unconscious. He took a few seconds to search him.

No ID.

No phone.

No surprise.

But no official credentials either. No gold badge.

He did find an electronic device with a blinking blue light in the man’s pocket. He crushed it underfoot and threw it into the Dumpster. He felt near the man’s ankle and pulled out a .38 S&W throwaway. He slipped it into his jacket pocket, turned, and leapt on top of the plywood. He grabbed the rope, made his way up, snagged the rung of the ladder, freed and pocketed the rope, and climbed.

Julie was already near the top of the building when he reached her.

“Is he dead?” she asked, looking downward.

She had obviously been watching.

“I didn’t check. Let’s go.”

“Where? We’re at the top.”

He pointed upward, to the roof. It was about ten feet farther up.

“How?” she asked. “The stairs don’t go that far. They stop at the top floor.”

“Wait here.”

He found a handhold on a windowsill, and then another in a crack in the brick. He climbed. A minute later he stood on the roof. He lay on his stomach, uncoiled the rope, and fed it down to her.

“Tie it to your backpack straps, like before, lock your arms together again, and close your eyes.”

“Don’t drop me,” she said, her voice panicky.

“I’ve already lifted you once. You weigh nothing.”

A minute later she was beside him on the roof.

Robie led her across the flat, graveled terrain, reached the opposite side, and looked down and then around. There was another fire escape on this side. He used the rope to lower Julie down, then slipped over the side, hung from the building for a few seconds, and let himself drop. He hit the metal of the fire escape, grabbed her hand, and they started down.

“Won’t we have the same problem if someone is out there?” said Julie.

“We would if we were going all the way down.”

They reached the third floor of the building and Robie stopped and peered in. He used a knife he carried in an ankle holder to defeat the simple locking mechanism.

He lifted the window.