James bundled on top and snatched Obidin’s gun, before racing back to the living-room.
After checking that the other three men were still unconscious, James grabbed his trainers from in front of the couch and slipped them on. With the gun poised, he walked back into the hallway, trying to ignore Vladimir’s moans as he put on his jacket and stepped through what remained of the front door.
The corridor was pitch black, but as James reached the stairwell he spotted torch beams and heard men with equipment jangling up the stairs: backup. Returning to the apartment seemed like a bad idea and James couldn’t go down, so he took an instant decision and raced up the musty staircase to the top floor. The unlit third-floor corridor bought him time, but if Obidin was still conscious and told the cops that he’d only just run out, they’d be on to him in seconds.
James considered his options, none of which looked good: he could stay where he was and get caught; going up on the roof would only buy an extra half minute; and if he knocked on any of the apartment doors, it was unlikely that anyone would let him in. His only realistic option was to run down the metal fire escape at the back of the building, but wouldn’t the cops have it covered?
However improbable escape seemed, James wasn’t giving up. He’d just shot the chief of police and the cops around here weren’t big on human rights. If they got him in a cell, they’d torture him until they got answers.
A blast of cold air hit James as he broke open the fire door. His haste almost cost him as his trainer glided across icy metal. There was a flurry of snow and a touch of light coming from the headlamps of the police cars parked at the front of the building. James looked down and couldn’t see anyone about, but it was impossible to be sure: the night was as black as the cops’ uniforms.
The steps were in a tight spiral and James moved as fast as he could, trying to keep his footsteps silent, with one freezing hand on the snowy railing and the other clutching his gun. He took another look when he got near the bottom, but there was still no sign of life and he made it safely to the tarmac.
James was in a parking lot, surrounded by cheap cars owned by the residents. Whilst little money had been spent on the upkeep of the Brezhnev Apartments, the perimeter was well defended and James realised that he’d have as much difficulty climbing out over the four-metre-high spiked railings as kidnappers and thieves were supposed to have climbing in.
But at least it was safer than being trapped in a corridor: there was plenty of space and plenty of cars to dive between if someone came after him. James felt nauseous as he crouched between a Nissan and a Volkswagen, trying to gather his thoughts. He glanced at his wrist and realised that his watch was still on the table back in the flat.
There was one thought that he couldn’t get out of his head: What could possibly have gone wrong at the meeting? Maybe Boris and Isla had blown their cover, or maybe Denis Obidin had known they were MI5 all along. Maybe they’d unearthed one of the bugs he’d placed inside the house …
But none of this quite rang true. Denis was a smart man: he was used to the attentions of the world’s intelligence agencies and would have dealt with the situation clinically. Vladimir turning up and kicking down doors in the middle of the night suggested that the Obidins were angry about something that had taken them by surprise.
James could mull over theories all night long and he’d still be trapped inside this car park. He needed to escape first and think later.
Although the adrenalin made it feel as if an age had passed since he’d woken up, James knew it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes; and it was less than half that time since Vladimir had called for backup. The cops who guarded the gate had run up the stairs and nobody had been covering the fire escape because there were no other cops in the area.
At least, not yet.
In a few minutes there would be cops all over the joint, but James reckoned he had a decent chance of making it through the front gates if he didn’t